


Captive Moon

by virtualpersonal



Series: Moon Fever [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Captive Sam, Humor, Hunter Dean, Hunter Sam, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sam, M/M, Sam Feels, Sexy Times, Temporary Amnesia, Werewolf Sam, Wincest - Freeform, sam and dean are not bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Moon Fever but can be read as a standalone. Having left the safety of their isolated cabin to fight against evil, Sam and Dean fully expect trouble from hunters who might suspect Sam is not human. What they find is that Sam is being targeted alright, but Sam's memory lapses make it impossible for them to figure out by whom or what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=dzxyls)  
>  Our thanks to the talented keyweegirlie for the lovely banner.
> 
> Written with Fetish

They'd arrived at Cassadaga, Florida, late last night. Now this was one town where talk of ghosts or spirits or 'the weird' would not earn you any strange looks. Actually, if you didn't believe in that stuff, then you either didn't belong or were a skeptical tourist. Every damned street in town had a supernatural sounding name. Dean had gotten a kick out of driving down Séance Drive, but when they'd found their way to Metaphysical Road and were staying at The Moon And Stars Inn, he'd started to think it was too much.

Course in the light of day, it was ten times worse. They'd driven around the picturesque wooded town, with its old fashioned homes, and two story wooden structures with big balconies. Stores lined the streets and it was clear that the business owners lived upstairs. But if you were looking for a liquor store, or a grocery, or army surplus, you had to look real hard. Instead, you found yourself tripping over signs offering spiritual guides, help contacting long dead ancestors, or guarantying 100 percent to help you remember past lives. And these were the least freaky of the signs. There were also signs on posts indicating the routes to various 'spiritual camps' outside of town. "Welcome to cult city," Dean muttered under his breath, seeing a bunch of women and girls walk across the street in long dresses and wearing flowers in their hair.

Shaking his head, he walked back to the motel, shifting the paper bag he was holding from one hand to the other. When he got the door to their room open, he saw Sam wasn't there. Taking the six pack of beer out, he stuck it into their cooler, and walked back out. He'd seen a dog nosing around this morning. Eye brows snapping together, Dean walked to the corner of the building, calling out even before he could see Sam. "You know, you don't have to talk to every long lost relative."

Sam grinned from where he was crouched in front of the Pit Bull and Dalmatian mix, one hand scratching the animal under its chin. He turned his head, looking toward where Dean's voice had come from before returning his attention to the beast in front of him. "Oh don't listen to him," Sam muttered to the animal. "He just gets jealous," he teased then chuckled as the dog joyously licked at his cheek. 

When Dean's footfalls grew louder, he turned again and caught a glimpse of his lover stepping out from around the side of the motel. "She says she thinks you're funny," Sam said with a wide grin while the dog continued to lick at his face, one paw nudging Sam to continue petting. 

"Uhuh," Dean gave a skeptical nod. "Tell her you're taken."

Sam chuckled and shook his head, turning his attention back to the dog, "See what I mean?" He asked the animal. "She knows I'm taken," Sam replied as he ran his hands over the dog's coat, fingertips scratching at the animal’s skin. "She can smell you on me." 

"Oh. Well... good, that's good." Dean watched for a long moment then nodded. "You coming? Or, if you feel like giving a massage, I'm all yours." Waggling his brows, he ignored the dog.

Sam nodded and slowly pulled to his full height. "I gotta go, beautiful," he muttered, offering the animal a soft smile. 

The dog whimpered and barked, pawing at Sam's pant leg. Sam smiled down at her and shook his head as he stepped away. "I'll come back and we'll talk more later," he promised over his shoulder as he crossed the distance between himself and Dean, standing toe to toe with him, a warm smile curling his lips. "I was just asking her about the area," he explained softly with a shrug. "Thought maybe it might help us out."

"Uh huh," Dean answered, knowing full well Sam had been socializing. Not that he really minded but well... he sometimes minded when they had to stop to pet every damned dog in town. "You know, this looks like the kind of place where I could push you up against the wall, kiss the daylights out of you, and no one would blink." Tossing the idea out there, his lips burned with anticipation.

Sam gave a soft snicker as he eyed Dean. "You think so, huh?" He inquired softly. His tongue darted out, licking across his lips as his gaze swung away from Dean, looking around them briefly before returning to his mate's face. "There's a..." he nodded, "lotta dogs here..." he mentioned pointedly, "would kinda make me look bad if I let my bitch do that, don't ya think?" He asked huskily, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

"There are a lot of dogs around. What do you care what they think?" Dean countered, putting one palm flat on Sam's chest, running it up and down slowly, before pushing suddenly so Sam hit the wall behind him. "Should be thinking more about what I think. Want," he said, his gaze dropping to Sam's tempting mouth.

Sam's eyes lowered to Dean's lips and his tongue darted out to run slowly along his own before he lifted his gaze back to Dean's. "Kiss me," he whispered hoarsely.

"Good answer. Hell..." he pressed his body against Sam's, "it's a _great_ answer." Dean didn't know why, but he loved it when Sam put him ahead, when he didn't give a damn what wolves or dogs would think. Maybe he was just a little jealous over the things Sam might share with animals, things Dean could never experience or understand. But this... showing them who belonged to whom, this he understood as he brought his mouth down hard over Sam's and ran his tongue across his lower lip before delving inside his mouth. Sweet and hot and all his, his wolf, Dean thought as he tangled his tongue with Sam's and ran his hands all over Sam's body. There was a definite push/pull to their relationship, things changed with the moon and the tide, but he wouldn't give it up, not any aspect of it. Gripping Sam's hips, he ground against him, moaning possessively.

Sam moaned into Dean's kiss, his tongue darting into his mate's mouth and tangling with Dean's. His arms wrapped around Dean, fingers splayed against his lover's back as he held his mate tight, kissing him back, giving as good as he got. Small moans and grunts tumbled from Sam's throat as their heads shifted from side to side, teeth knocking together as the kiss grew deeper, hungrier. 

The dog Sam had been petting and talking to pranced in place as it watched, whimpering softly before giving a loud sharp bark. Sam tore his lips from Dean's, hazel eyes now giving way to yellow. He snarled in warning as his head snapped to the side, looking back over his shoulder at the animal.

Dean sensed the change in Sam even before he saw his eyes. It was there in the stiffness of his stance, and in the way his hold had gone from light to a death grip that might be painful for Dean to try to get out of. He sensed the tension in Sam's body, knew everything could change in a split second. "Shshsh, it's fine Sam. Look at me," he whispered, rubbing his body against Sam's, but not showing any aggression at all. "Right here Sammy. Kiss me."

Sam turned his head back to face Dean at his mate's coaxing. Golden yellow eyes searching Dean's face lovingly. The tension began to drain slowly from his body, his grip on Dean loosening slightly as he allowed himself to focus on his lover and not the taunts of the canine behind them or the words of others nearby that echoed in his head. His lashes fluttered as he leaned back in and softly kissed Dean's lips before his own parted and his tongue tentatively darted out, licking at his mate's lips and just inside his mouth.

"Mmm," Dean sucked Sam's tongue into his mouth and started to kiss him again. Closing his arms around Sam's waist, he pulled him away from the wall and started walking backwards, stumbling as he tried to turn the corner without looking. Between kisses, he spoke to Sam, soothing him, telling him he loved him, trying to keep him calm. It wasn't that he minded when the wolf came out to play, but Sam was a lot more difficult for days after, and that's what he was trying to avoid, since there was still time before the full moon which inevitably brought the wolf out. 

As he walked backwards, his boots made noise on the wooden decking under foot, especially when he stumbled. Laughing when Sam bumped into him and threatened to take both of them down, he finally turned so his back was against the wall while his hand searched for the door knob. "Looks like hitting the books at the library's gonna have to wait," he said suggestively. They'd been together for eight months and he swore all he still had to do to get hard was think about Sam without his shirt.  
Sam's lips curled into a coy smile, a soft blush staining his cheeks. "Yeah," he agreed breathlessly. "Sorry," he offered as they stumbled into the motel room. The door swung closed behind them as they stagger-stepped toward the bed together. One of his hands slid down, cupping Dean's ass while the other moved between them, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans as their lips hit and missed, kissing sloppily.

"You're the _biggest_ distraction, ever," Dean said, moaning when Sam's hand brushed over his hard cock. "Fuck... get it open," he said, leaning in and sucking the sensitive flesh of Sam's neck into his mouth. "How do you do this to me, make me want..." He reached for the bottom of Sam's tee shirt and pulled it up, giving Sam a second to raise his arms before tossing it to the ground. Running his hands up Sam's sides, he traced Sam's nipples with the pads of his thumbs, loving how quickly Sam responded. 

Sam gave a soft short laugh at Dean's words before a low moan tore from his lips as his mate teased his nipples. His back arched into the touch and his head lulled back, throat convulsing as he swallowed hard before he lifted his head once more, staring into his mate's face with passion glazed, heavy lidded eyes. "It's your fault," he accused, "you started it." 

He tugged open the front of Dean's jeans then slid his hand upward along his Dean's sides, palms caressing against warm bare flesh as he edged Dean's tee and over-shirt upward. "Take 'em off for me," Sam commanded huskily, licking a path up Dean's neck and swirling along the shell of his mate's ear. "Want you..." 

"Ditto." Eyes closed, Dean turned his face so his mouth slid against Sam's warm lips before he pulled back and did as he asked. He took his over shirt off slowly, his eyes locked on Sam's face, heat coiling through him as he recognized the hunger in the way his lover was watching him. Just as slowly, he pulled his tee shirt up and off, letting it fall to the ground between them. 

His heated gaze slowly traveled down Sam's chest, his heart kicking up a notch at the thought of being skin to skin with him, touching him all over, tasting him. Grabbing Sam's belt, he pulled him close, then dropped down on the bed, taking Sam with him and giving an "oomph," when Sam's weight pressed him down into the soft mattress. Locking each of his legs around one of Sam's, he raised his hips, grinding against Sam's hard cock, frustrated by the material still separating them. He licked a path up from the hollow of Sam's collar bone, up his throat, then nibbled on his strong jaw. "Want to fuck you," he whispered. "Want you right now, Sam."

Sam's lips curled in a lascivious smirk, his eyes flashing yellow briefly as he turned his head slightly and eyed his lover. His hands caressed down Dean's hips then moved to the sides of his lover's jeans, thumbs tucking into the waistband, tugging the material downward. "Then take this off," he murmured huskily. "Before someone else decides to take over," he warned with a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his lips. His head dipped slightly, teeth scraping along the side of Dean's neck before his tongue darted out, licking along the column of his mate's throat as soft whimpers and moans tumbled from deep in his throat. His hips cantered toward Dean's wantonly, back arching with the movement.

So the wolf wasn't in control and Sam was intent on driving Dean out of his mind with need. Dean could totally get on board with that. Raising his own hips, he groaned each time Sam dragged his cock over him, or rocked his ass just right. His hand swept up Sam's body, sliding up over his waist, loving how his muscles contracted and shuddered. When Sam leaned all the way back, Dean ran his palm up the center of Sam's body, from his tight abs, along the valley of his chest and cupped his throat, holding him in that impossible position of a long moment, and the releasing him.

Their eyes met, and without any words, they reversed positions. Dean kneeled between Sam's legs and bent over, kissing each sliver of flesh that was revealed as he tugged Sam's jeans down. He kissed his hips, and stomach, and moved his mouth over Sam's hard cock. He teased and licked it as he continued to remove the last of Sam's clothes and pushed them aside. 

Bringing Sam's hand to Sam's cock, he watched intently as he jacked off. Meanwhile, Dean managed to shuck his own jeans, making a soft sound of relief when he freed his achingly hard cock from the restraining material. With his knees straddling Sam's thighs, each time Sam lifted his hips to thrust into his hand, Dean felt Sam's muscles tighten and rub up along Dean's inner thighs. _Higher, higher_ his body screamed. His cock ached and started to drip, and when he couldn't take it another moment, he lowered himself over Sam and dragged his cock over Sam's. A flare of heat shot through him, had him riding over Sam a little harder. 

He bent over and kissed Sam, one hand holding his face in place as he intensified the kiss. His tongue slid in and out, battling Sam's as his body rocked against his lover's. They moved in unison, grunts punctuating hard thrusts. Thoughts of being inside Sam, of taking him intensified. Raising his head, through unfocused eyes, he saw the lube on the nightstand and reached for it. 

They'd learned Sam didn't need much preparation. He shifted, and between kisses, he lubed Sam's hole until he was ready. Moving behind Sam, spooning him, Dean closed his fingers around Sam's thick cock now slick with pre-cum and started to stroke. Each time he squeezed and stroked Sam, he nudged his own rock hard cock against Sam's entrance, teasing himself just as effectively as he teased Sam.

Sam panted and groaned, soft animalistic whimpers tumbling from his throat as he thrust his hard length into Dean's hand and pushed back against his mate's cock teasing his ass. He reached back with one hand, grasping his lover's ass cheek and massaging the firm globe as he pulled Dean harder up against him. His hole spasmed wantonly against Dean's dick and his pushed against it harder in a silent plea. The tip of his own cock was deep red and leaking with each glide of his lover's hand along his shaft. 

"Dean... please..." Sam groaned thickly. He turned his head toward Dean and lifted it as much as the unnatural angle would allow, his lips seeking out his mate's, messily hitting and missing with each vigorous rolling thrust of his hips. 

Sam's pleas and sharp movements sent heat pulsing through Dean. Rolling forward, kissing Sam back just as hard, Dean gripped Sam's hip and started to push inside him. He pushed steadily, while Sam rocked repeatedly back against him, sending electric jolts through him. Tight, he was so fucking tight. Dean squeezed his eyes closed as he gave a hard thrust, moving past the tight ring of muscle and sliding deep inside Sam. "Fuck..." he groaned as his hips slotted against Sam's ass and he was in as far as he could go.  
He started to fuck slowly, moving his hand over Sam at the same pace, forcing both of them to take their time. He kissed Sam's shoulder and neck, whispered in his ear. "Day I caught you was the best day of my life. You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he said, resisting the urge to go faster. "Never letting go, Sam. Never." There had been times in their early days together where they'd both wondered how this would work between them. Now they'd figured it out and Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

"Heh," Sam gave a husky breathless chuckle. "Yeah, the day you caught me rescuing you from that tree," he corrected with a pleasured smirk as he thrust his cock forward into his lover's hand then pressed back against his cock, rocking between the two. "Was... was a good day," Sam panted. "Should'a thanked that thing 'fore I killed it," he mused.

They could argue about who had caught whom into forever, and sometimes it seemed like they did. It was just another of their in jokes. "It got me in its trap, and you got me out. And now... now I got you in my trap," Dean said lustily, thrusting harder and moving his hand more firmly over Sam's cock, possessively. To prove his point, he bit Sam's shoulder hard, moaning as Sam clenched his muscles tight around Dean's cock.

Sam groaned, back arching as his eyes squeezed closed and he clenched his teeth. Behind closed lids his eyes flashed wolf yellow and a long low whine tore from his throat as he rocked his hips back and forth between his mate's hand and his cock. "Yessss," he growled softly as he quickened his movements.

Sam's growl reverberated in Dean's mind, over and over, as he matched Sam's rhythm, fucking him harder, faster, pushing both of them closer to the edge. His thrusts became more urgent, less controlled. His hips jerked sharply, he started to gasp, blowing hot gusts of air against the back of Sam's neck. "Yes... God damn... yes," he grunted, pushing Sam practically onto his stomach, though he continued to jerk him off. Dean pulled out part way and, giving a throaty moan, slammed his hips against Sam's ass, another loud groan working its way from deep within his throat. "Close... Sam... Now!" he growled, alternately grinding and thrusting, his entire body spasming as he came hot and fast, inside Sam, filling him up. "Fuck baby... so good... so good."

Sam's body strained, back arching as he ground back against Dean and thrust his dick hard into his lover's hand, his movements erratic and frenzied. His muscles tensed and his eyes squeezed tightly closed as he grit his teeth, heat pooling low and thick in his gut. His cock pulsed within the cage of his mate's grip and his ass muscles spasmed around his lover's cock before clamping down as his head snapped back and a low deep animalistic growl tore from his throat. 

"Dean!!!" Sam growled his mate's name as he came, his hot spunk painting the bed linens and streaking his lover's hand. 

Rolling onto his back and taking Sam with him, Dean continued to glide his hand over Sam's cock, nuzzling the back of his neck and thrusting his hips very lightly as the firestorm inside him eased. His other hand was now free to explore Sam's body, to skim over his thigh and the dip right next to his hip. "You freakin' take my breath away," he whispered. 

Sam's body slowly relaxed back against Dean as his orgasm subsided, his head pillowed against his mate's shoulder. He allowed Dean his time of exploration before rolling onto his side, gazing up at his profile adoringly while his hand caressed over Dean's chest and abs. "You're beautiful," he muttered softly, awe in his voice, a smirk curling the corners of his lips.

"I think 'handsome' or 'heartstoppingly handsome,' if you want to go chick flick, are the words you're looking for." Lifting his head, Dean stole a kiss, enjoying the feel of Sam's calloused hand moving over him.

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head, "Nope, beautiful," he argued gently, dipping his head and pressing a kiss to his mate's mouth. "Mmmmmm, with very _pretty_ lips," he teased, stealing another kiss. 

"Attractive. Attractive lips," Dean corrected decisively, cupping the back of Sam's head and forcing him downward so he could kiss him and shut him up. Only when they were both breathless did he release him, smiling smugly at the unfocused look in Sam's eyes. "And a damned good kisser, you gotta give me that." He might be complimenting himself, but every word was really about Sam.

"Mmmmmm," Sam hummed in agreement, "a very good kisser," he murmured, capturing Dean's bottom lip between his own and sucking on the tender flesh gently a moment before releasing it. "Though you could learn to use your tongue more..." he mused with a teasing smirk. 

"Does that mean I get to practice? Like that." Rolling them over, he lowered his mouth over Sam's and showed him just how well practiced his tongue could be.

* * *

The local library was a two story structure with lots of windows. They'd had to wait a while to get to use the microfilm station and in that time, several people had approached and asked if they wanted their palms read, or their chi adjusted and what not. Dean had easily brushed them off but Sam... Sam being Sam, he'd been all polite and put on his 'interested' look. Course then he'd ended up doing all the talking, despite the looks Dean gave him, silently telling him to cut it out and get rid of the weirdoes.  
A woman had taken Sam's hand and started drawing lines across his palm. She mumbled some nonsense about his lifeline and his past, then she got to talking about hiding behind masks. Yeah like there was anyone in the world who didn't hide behind one. Okay some had bigger masks, Dean thought. Then she said something about Sam's love life, that he would find true love, a love that would complete him and it would happen soon. 

"So full of crap," Dean muttered, despite the 'shut up' look from Sam.

When the woman looked at him, Dean put an arm around Sam and kissed him. "That answer your question?" he asked.

Giving a shrug, she left, giving her place in the line to them.  
"Really don't have to talk to _everyone_ ," Dean said, taking a seat once the person using the microfilm station got up. Sam pulled a chair up and they scanned the recent news as well as the news in the ten years prior. The major electrical disturbances and brownouts had only occurred recently. There was nothing in the past of the city to indicate otherwise. "There was some sort of group even... end of the world watch, week before last," Dean said, then he added drily, "and last month, and two years ago... this is getting us nowhere."

Sam turned his attention to Dean and frowned. "Maybe it’s due to all the bad vibes you're putting off," he suggested. "Madame Lyndia from that little occult shop across from our motel says that a person has to give good to get good and you haven't exactly been very tolerant of these people," he explained. "Would it hurt you to let them feel like they were doing something nice for you, like reading your palm or the bumps on your head, even if it isn't real?" Sam inquired gently. "Maybe the love of my life can teach you when we find him...or her," he mused, a teasing smirk curling his lips though he turned away and kept his eyes focused on the film in front of them.

"Teach me what?" Dean demanded, not too thrilled with Sam's comment.   
"How to be nicer," Sam replied dismissively, sitting forward in his chair and changing the microfilm. . 

"I'm nice. Damned nice. Just not a pushover. Besides, she's way off base." Zooming through the microfilm, Dean stopped for a second to give Sam a look, then returned to looking at the screen. "Crap.... crap... and more useless crap."

Sam snickered softly and reached over with one hand, placing it on Dean's thigh as his eyes slid to the side, looking at his mate. "I know she was wrong," he murmured. "I was only picking on you, _you're_ my mate," he whispered before turning his attention to the microfilm. "Whoa, wait back up again," he exclaimed, thinking he saw something of interested but the way Dean was shifting though it all you'd have to have bionic eyes to be certain of what you were reading.

When Dean scrolled back a couple pages, Sam halted him and leaned forward, eyes scanning the article. "Mystical bowl used in ancient rituals stolen from local museum," Sam muttered as he read and looked over at Dean. "You sure that's crap and not something we should check into?" 

"Sam, what isn't _mystical_ around here?" Dean leaned in and paid closer attention to the article. "I dunno, what makes this different from other ritual articles?" Having come to trust Sam's gut instincts, despite his own skepticism he waited for Sam's answer .

"Well," Sam began thoughtfully, "this thing was stolen right about the same time that all the electrical problems started and this bowl isn't some new age thing either," he said pointedly. "All this, the palm reading, the things we're seeing around us here right now," he waved, "that's all new age or has that feel to it. This thing seems to be connected to black magic, ancient, hardcore kind of stuff. It would explain the dead animals that people have been finding around here...the poor things were likely some sort of sacrificial offerings. So, yeah, I'd say this is definitely not some bowl used by kitchen witches who want to save the planet and hang pretty rocks around their necks which makes it different and worth looking into."

"When you put it that way..." Dean hit the 'print' button. "Alright, so I guess we research the rituals connected to the bowl. Maybe call Bobby," he said. "Could hit a bar tonight, see who's talking about what. I don't think we're going to find anything else here."

Sam nodded, "Okay, sounds good to me," Sam agreed. "You know, I could talk to more of the locals, find out if they know anything," he suggested though he wasn't talking about the spiritualists and he knew Dean knew it.

"Play Scooby doo. Gotcha," he winked. "I can't believe I just said that."

Sam chuckled and nodded as he pulled to his feet alongside Dean. 

* * *

They'd returned to their motel room and called Bobby to see if he knew anything useful about the bowl that had been stolen from the local museum. Bobby promised to look into it and get back to them if he hit on anything. Once that was taken care of and they'd grabbed some dinner, they'd gone to one of the local bars that had a band playing cover songs of some old classic rock tunes. That music was good, the beer was cold but talk was hard to come by. Of course the fact that you could barely hear yourself think in the place was likely partly to blame for people not wanting to say much.

They finally gave up and left the bar with Dean four hundred bucks richer having won at a high stakes game of pool he'd gotten into with two biker guys and a redneck who claimed to have seen big foot up close and knew for a fact he was real. Sam hid his smile but Dean didn't mince words when he told the guy he was an idiot and that had started the entire pool match.

Dean was still bragging about the wad of cash lining his wallet as they walked into their room and shrugged off their jackets. After undressing for the night, they ended up falling asleep in the middle of watching some bad horror flick where the blonde kept running up the steps when she should be running down them and out the front door for help. The muted sounds of her screams and Dean's soft snores beside him were the first things that Sam heard when his eyes sprang open. He lay there, tensed and waiting, for what he wasn't totally sure, but something had called to him as he'd slept, something that had awoken him from his dreams. Every hair on his body stood on end and his eyes flashed yellow in the darkness, his lips curling back to reveal canine incisors as a low bestial growl tore from his throat. His fingers curled into the bedding and his eyes widened in shocked alarm as he felt the change begin.

 _'It's not right... the moon cycle's off... there's no reason... I didn't...'_ those were the last thoughts that Sam had before tendons began to pop and muscles tore. Bones shifted shape as Sam lowered his head, burying his face against the pillow in an attempt to muffles the sounds he made and not wake Dean.

It only took a moment for the change to complete though as always it felt like a lifetime. Fully transformed into a large black wolf, Sam climbed to his feet, sniffing the air around the bed which crackled with electricity and danger. He anxiously paced back and forth across the mattress before planting one large paw on the center of Dean's chest. Sam's lips curled back menacingly as he snarled and growled in warning, yellow eyes intent on Dean's face.

Dean couldn't say whether it was the weight pressing down on him or the sound that woke him. Almost simultaneously, he jerked upwards, opened his eyes and automatically closed his hand around the handle of the dagger under his pillow. There was enough light for him to recognize Sam in wolf form, and to see the dangerous yellow glint in his eyes. Instantly, he dropped the knife so the wolf wouldn't think it was being challenged. 

"Sam?" he whispered the question, slowly raising his hand to stroke the wolf's fur. 

Sam backed away from Dean's hand, his head lowering marginally as he whimpered. He turned then and leapt off the bed, hurrying toward the door of their room. He clawed at it vigorously, tearing and stripping wood but when the barrier didn't open fast enough, he backed up a few steps, whines tearing from his throat before he jumped upward and out through the window, the sound of shattering glass piercing the night.

"What the--" Jackknifing off the bed, Dean ran to the door, cursing and hopping when he stepped on a small shard of glass. Flinging the door open, he called out, "Sam!" 

Searching the darkness, all Dean could see was the wolf rushing into the woods like he was being chased, only there was nothing behind him. "Fuck," he looked down at his foot, then back out at the woods. It wasn't even the full moon yet, so what the hell happened? And even with the full moon, he'd never seen Sam pull anything like this. He'd paw at the door and Dean would let him out. This was... it was more than strange.

Letting the door close only part way, he hopped to the bed and sat down to take care of his foot. Usually, when Sam went for a run, he'd be back in a couple hours. Either Dean would wait for him or he'd leave clothes for Sam inside the car and leave the car door open. That way Sam would use his nose to open the door, get dressed in the car, or wherever they'd put his clothes, and be able to come inside without flashing his ass at the world. 

Glancing at the clock, Dean saw it was one a.m. Figuring Sam would be back by about two or three, he decided to wait up. He wanted answers anyway. Turning the TV. on, he started to channel surf.

A couple hours later, he was getting sleepy. He might have gone to sleep if he hadn't been a little worried. He knew Sam could take care of himself, that he should just leave the clothes in the car, close the motel room door and get some sleep. But something nagged at him, so he kept himself busy watching the tube and surfing the web. By five a.m. though, he caught himself nodding off. Letting off a sigh, he padded out in only his shorts. Luckily, the car was parked right outside the door of their motel room. Tossing a pair of jeans inside, he left the door open for Sam. 

When he got back in the room and closed the door, he still felt a little uncertainty about where Sam had run off to, but he knew damned well that when the wolf took off, he took off and was almost impossible to find. Dropping down on the bed, he tried to fight sleep and to wait on Sam. 

* * * 

Sam ran through the woods like he was possessed, like something was calling to his very soul. He leaped from fallen tree to fallen tree as he made his way across swamps and deeper into the rainforest-like woods of north-central Florida. He ran until he didn’t think he could run anymore, his sides hurt and his paws felt as though if he were to look down he would find them bleeding.

Finally the woods gave way to a clearing and Sam slowed his gait and surveyed the area around him as he stepped out of the thick greenery.

A human stepped out of nowhere it seemed and brushed back the hood of a grey cloak revealing an ebony haired woman with piercing black eyes that seemed to see deep into his soul. Her crimson lips curved into a smile as she crouched in front of Sam and reached out, her gloved hand running it over Sam's head and down the thick fur of his back. “That’s a good boy,” she cooed softly, an underlying wickedness to her tone.

Her other hand snaked out fast as lightening and grabbed the werewolf’s throat as the hand that had caressed his fur pulled a dagger from her sleeve and sliced into his hide.

Sam yelped and struggled to get away though she held fast with the hand at his throat. Her other hand moving to the wound she had made, dipping inside before pulling away and lifting to her mouth. She captured her finger wet with his blood between her lips, sucking it clean as she eyed him suspiciously. Her lips curled once more as she pulled her finger from her lips and reached into a small pouch at her side, withdrawing a handful of golden dust which she blew into Sam’s face.

“Grab him, he’s one of them,” Sam heard her say as she released him, though he was unable to run away, his legs collapsing out from under him when he tried. Two men suddenly stepped out of the bushes and started toward him. They were the last things he saw before blackness engulfed him.

*

Sam wasn’t sure how long he'd been out, only that he was now inside a roofless cage of some kind. He could tell that he was still outside, maybe in some sort of courtyard. He tried to stand only to find that he was fastened to the ground by a very short leash and a collar that was too tight around his neck. A whine of frustration tore from his throat as he struggled to break free but the chain of the leash was apparently made of silver, a metal Sam was powerless against.

He heard movement behind him and his lips curled in a sneer as he growled in warning but before he could try to find a way to turn he found himself being struck repeatedly. The whip cracked loudly, the snapping sound echoing off the stone walls around the pens where Madame Verlaine kept her subjects.

It was said that the blood of a shifters would make a witch such as Verlaine powerful, so powerful that she would be like a goddess.

A high pitched sound from a tuning fork vibrated softly through the forest. It came again, and again, the sounds spaced more closely together. There was the shuffling of feet and the rustle of long robes. Then the chanting began. It was monotonous and low at first, but grew louder and louder. Chanting of this sort was not a strange event in the areas outlaying the town. What was strange, however, was the echoes of sharp, pain-filled yelps and the stench of blood permeating the air.


	2. Chapter 2

[Hours later]

Sam stumbled out of the woods weakly, he staggered to one side and bounced almost bodily off a tree before lurching forward and landing in a heap in front of the door to their motel room.

A crowd gathered around the bruised and battered young man laying naked on the door step of a room at The Moon and Stars Inn. Middle aged woman, old ladies, men and children alike, stood staring down at him in wide eyed wonder as though they had never seen a naked man curled in a ball on his side, and maybe they hadn’t. But it was most likely the bruises and ligature marks around his wrists and ankles or maybe the cuts across his smooth tanned skin that had them gawking. Whatever it was, their murmurings weren’t nearly as quiet as they liked to pretend.

“I bet he’s into the S and M stuff,” one woman gasped.

“S and M?” Another inquired curiously.

“Yeah, you know that sexual stuff.”

“Nah, looks to me like he was kidnapped, like on those television shows,” a man cut in.

“Mommy, is he dead?”

“Nooo, he isn’t dead… is he Roy?”

“Hell, how do I know, I ain’t touchin’ him, what if he’s got something?”

Having been partially asleep, Dean thought he was hearing or dreaming things. But when he opened his eyes and the strange comments continued, and the shadows behind the blinds indicated there were people hanging out right outside his room, he sat up and stormed toward the door and yanked it open. "Could you people go somewhere else to talk about your mystical sex..." A few of the people who'd been right in front of his door moved away, and Dean saw Sam on the ground. 

"Sam!" Dropping down next to him, he shook Sam and looked up at the crowd. "Get outta here, beat it." 

Getting no reaction from Sam, but touching his throat to make sure he had a steady pulse, Dean put his arms under Sam's and started lifting. Seeing as the crowd wasn't disappearing, he snapped at one of the bigger dudes. "At least grab his legs and help me out here." The guy snapped out of it and helped Dean get Sam inside and to the bed.

"Shall I call the ambulance?"

"Nah, he'll be fine. Just need the _meds_ to wear off," putting his hand on the man's back, Dean practically shoved him as he walked him to the door. 

"Meds... right."

After he thanked the guy and closing the door, Dean heard more speculation, this time about drug addicts. Ordinarily, he might have gone back out to make sure they cleared out, but he was too freaked out about Sam. Getting on the bed next to him, he shook Sam again and called his name. Whatever had happened, with his healing powers, Sam would get better soon. Yeah, he would, Dean told himself, trying to keep calm. 

He ran his hands over Sam's body, trying to figure out what the hell he'd had a fight with. There were no teeth marks, but there were several deep gashes that were partially healed and some bruising on his stomach and back. "Did you pick a fight with a train? Sammy?" He brushed the hair off Sam's forehead, and stared intently into his face, willing him to come awake. He'd never seen Sam so fucking pale. No, he had once, when Sam had almost died. That thought was no consolation. 

Scrambling off the bed, he went for Sam's duffel bag and retrieved the jar of medicine Sam was fond of mixing up. Using two fingers, he applied globs of it on the gashes on Sam's body, but had a feeling a lot of the injuries were on the inside. Wiping the shitty smelling stuff off his fingers, he leaned over Sam again, calling his name, touching him. "Come on man, come back to me," he said, his stomach muscles tightening when Sam stayed in a catatonic state. "Sam..."

Pulling to his feet, Dean paced for a while. There wasn't a damned thing he could do and it killed him. He tried some cold compresses to Sam's face, not that Sam had a fever, but he thought the coolness of the wet towels might bring him around. He was wrong. This would be so much simpler if he could just take Sam to the hospital, but knowing they'd quickly figure out there was something different about Sam, he couldn't do that. He'd just have to trust that Sam would heal now the same way as Dean had seen him recover at accelerated rates from other injuries, including bullet wounds. 

All damned morning, Dean swung between hope and despair. He'd brushed his teeth and gotten dressed and was trying to keep busy, but couldn't seem to finish anything he started. Cleaning weapons. Researching the net. Trying to watch T.V. None of it took his mind off Sam, and he ended up pacing again. Pacing and talking to his unresponsive lover. 

It was almost noon and Dean was about ready to go out of his mind. He moved to the bed again, smoothing the sheets over Sam and running his hand over the side of his face. "Talk to me baby, please. Begging you," he said thickly, "Please."

Sam cringed, in his dreams he was trying to get away from the sting of the whip. A whimper tore from his throat as his features twisted at the remembered pain of being cut and bled as he thrashed and fought for freedom. His hands curled, gripping the sheets at his sides a moment before his eyes shot open and he gasped in a startled breath, his head jerking upward off the pillow then falling back down against it. Releasing his death grip on the bed linens, Sam blinked away the befuddled haze and stared up at the white paint of the motel room instead of cracked and molded grey stone. Home, he'd made it home... but from where? His brow creased as he turned his head, his eyes meeting his mate's worried leaf green gaze. 

Nightmare, he'd had a nightmare that was all it was, had to be. He couldn't remember anything else just that ceiling and the nightmare he'd just had. He cleared his too dry throat and his lips curved upward lazily as he looked at his love. "Mornin'," he rasped, frowning at the weak gravelly sound of his own voice. 

"Afternoon," Dean responded automatically, lowering his head to lean his forehead against Sam's as some of the tension that had built up over the past hours started to melted away. "You scared the hell outta me. Exactly what did you pick a fight with, and who won?" If Sam weren't so weak, Dean might have yelled at him for disappearing like he had, then for engaging in a fight with some sort of badass all on his own. Right now, though, he was too relieved to be angry. 

"Hmm?" Sam questioned, brows knitting with confusion. "I didn't pick a fight with anything," he replied hoarsely, a fact which he still didn't understand. "I've been right here all night..." 

Pressing his hands flat against the mattress, Sam started to push himself up only to pause at the ache in his body, his features contorting in a wince as he hissed out a breath. More confused than ever, he reached for the covers and threw them back and gaped at the bruises and pink scars from cuts that peppered his normally flawless skin. Lifting his eyes to Dean, Sam stared at him in wide-eyed stupefaction. "What the hell happened to me?" 

Dean frowned at the puzzled look on Sam's face, his reaction. "It's what I want to know. You were passed out, right outside the door. You don't remember?" Something had to have hit Sam damned hard. "So where did you go? Might help you remember," he said, looking intently at Sam.

Sam frowned at his mate, "I was outside?" He echoed in confusion. He shook his head and closed his eyes as he struggled to make sense of this. Lifting a hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to remain calm before he released his hold and lowered his hand, his eyes fluttering open. "Dean, I don't remember anything. I could swear that I was here, with you, all night," he insisted gently. 

"Well you weren't." Dean stood up and looked at the door, then back at Sam. "You woke me up in the middle of the night, in wolf form. Stepped on me and growled, and then..." Getting up, he pulled the blinds up to show Sam the damage he'd done. He'd cleaned up the glass and stapled some newspaper over the open window frame. It was a wonder the manager hadn't come knocking on the door about it yet. "You were gone for twelve hours, maybe more. None of this is ringing a bell?"

Sam sat completely up in bed, staring at the window's busted glass. He wasn't even going to get into how wrong it was that he'd stepped on and growled at Dean when he was asleep, what he was faced with right in front of him was bad enough. He opened his mouth and closed it, then opened it again and once again closed it. He didn't know what to say, he had no idea about any of this. It was as though Dean were telling him about someone else and not about himself. 

Sam slowly shook his head, "I - I don't..." he looked at Dean, eyes wide and beseeching. He shook his head, "I don't know what to say..." he rasped softly. 

Dean bit his lip. "This ever happen to you before? Where you black out or forget where you were. You know newly made werewolves are like that," he said, crossing the room and getting some aspirin from his duffel bag. Stepping into the bathroom, he came back with a glass of water. "I know you heal and all that but..." he cocked his head to the side, rather than saying out loud how bad Sam looked.

Sam shook his head as his eyes tracked Dean. He quirked a brow at his mate at the mention of 'newly made werewolves', he'd been a werewolf for a while now, he'd hardly call himself 'newly made'. 

Reaching for the pills and glass of water Dean offered, Sam didn't argue about how he would heal, how he should heal. Hell, the fact that he wasn't one hundred percent healed already had him slightly edgy as it was, even if he was in the process of it. "Thanks," he mumbled softly before tossing back the pills and water and handing Dean back the partially full glass. 

"Maybe it'll come back to you, if you keep thinking on it." Scratching his head as he walked away, Dean turned. "You don't think someone drugged your drink at that bar we were at? Maybe it did something to you... to the wolf? Then, if you couldn't think straight, you got into a whole lot of badness that you can't remember."

Sam nodded and continuing to think through theories. Yeah, maybe it would come to him, maybe this blank spot in his memory would somehow go away if he continued to think about it all and slowly those blanks would be filled in... or so he hoped. "What kind of drug could do that? Have you ever heard of something like that?" 

"Lots of people remember nothing after being given drugs, just think date rape drugs." Dean's jaw clenched tight at the thought anyone even thought they were going to touch Sam like that. "I'm not saying that's it, cause you weren't out of it or acting weird when we got back to the room. But something like it, or maybe you react different to it. Like your body fought the effects until after you fell asleep. Anything is possible. Then maybe you challenged something bigger than you, or you were in no condition to fight." Still, the way Sam had growled at him had been quite menacing. "How're you feeling?"  
Sam frowned as he listened to Dean, unsure whether any of what his mate said seemed to fit or not, but then who was he to judge? He couldn't remember anything past the movie they'd been watching last night. "I'm..." he nodded, "sore but okay," he lied. 

He gaze tenderly up at Dean and shook his head, "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, "for all of this. It's not what you signed up for..." 

"That's crazy talk. I signed up for everything, the good, the bad and the ugly." Walking closer, he bent over and kissed Sam. "You just gave me a helluva scare, that's all. You're back and fine, that's all that matters. You want me to bring something to eat or you wanna," he nodded toward the door. "I think some food might do you good." 

Sam smiled adoringly at his mate, "I love you," he murmured, his eyes searching Dean's face. He cringed sheepishly at Dean's question, "I'm starvin' but... I kinda don't want to be alone," he muttered, lowering his gaze timidly. 

Grinning back, Dean took Sam's hand and started to help him out of bed. "You're not. Alone. Not ever," he said. "And ditto. On the love thing."

* * *

The 'Getting Your Karma On Cafe' wasn't as bad as it sounded. That, or Dean was just as hungry as Sam since both of them were tearing into their triple burgers like they hadn't eaten in months. Before they'd taken off from the motel, Dean had paid for the window damage, saying that Sam had thrown a ball through the window. Sam hadn't been thrilled with the explanation, or the looks he got from the person at the reception desk, and others in the lobby. Dean had just grinned, put his arm behind Sam's back, and walked him on out of there. This was a tourist town and it had been pretty hard finding a cheap room so he didn't want to lose it.  
"Mmm, best damn burger I've had," Dean said, speaking around a mouthful of the stuff. "You're looking better." The lap top was sitting in front of Sam who was still busy eating. 

"Mmmmmm," Sam hummed in agreement as he nodded, mouth filled with burger, his gaze fixed on the computer screen as he scrolled the online columns of the local paper for anything that might help with the case. Another window of the computer was pulled up to drugs and drug interactions that Sam had looked up in an attempt to find out what it was that he might have been drugged with that had made him forget an entire twelve hours of his life. 

His gaze flickered up from the laptop to Dean and back again. "Haven't found much of anything that can help with our case," he muttered, a little discouraged. He clicked to the other tab on the browser and reached for a french fry. "I did find a drug on here that's given to surgery patients, it's an amnesiac drug..." he mused, his brow creasing as he read the section on it for the hundredth time. "Says it's only available to hospitals but," he shook his head as he swallowed, "doesn't mean someone who works at one didn't smuggle some out maybe," he suggested, glancing up at Dean to gage his reaction. 

"These are all long shots. I mean it could be anything." Dean stuffed a french fry in his mouth and licked his finger clean of the ketchup. "And there's nothing about people getting kidnapped out of bars or anything like that. I want to think it was a fluke..." but the way he said it made it clear he thought otherwise. "Damn, we should have taken a sample of your blood before you ate. Could have gotten that tested to see if you'd been given something. Now we might never know," he said with a frustrated groan. 

It bugged the shit out of Dean that someone might have pulled something on Sam, but if it was just a drugging, at least they had control over the situation. It wouldn't happen again and Sam was fine. At least it didn't seem to be a supernatural problem that they'd have to deal with.

Sam smiled and shook his head at Dean's idea of turning his blood in to be tested. If they had done that, sure they might have found out what drug he might have been given, but the strange mutation of his blood cells would have the medical community clamoring to keep him for God only knew how long until they figured him out. He didn't argue the fact with Dean, however, figuring his mate was just frustrated about not being able to find out what had happened to him. He just hoped Dean was right, that this, whatever it was, had been a fluke. It wasn't an experience that he wanted to repeat ever again. 

After he swallowed the last of his burger down, Dean looked up. "Getting back to the case, Bobby called about the stolen gourd bowl. He said real ones, originals, were used to summon the Egyptian god, Khonsu. He doesn't think any museum around here would have a real one. It was probably a knock off. He hasn't been able to figure out what rituals it was used for, he kinda needs a translator for that. Best he could give me was that it involves sacrifices and _making_. He's got no idea what that refers to, but..." he raised a finger, "he did say that during the ritual, candle light and all fire for miles around gets snuffed out. Maybe that's the ancient version of electrical disturbances." 

Sam's brows rose at the idea of all fires and candle light being snuffed out and the relation Dean had made between that and electricity today. "It's definitely possible. Would make sense," he agreed. "If it wasn't a real ritual bowl though, would it do _anything_ other than look good on a knick-knack shelf?" Sam asked with a shrug. "I mean, if it's fake then it's fake and wouldn't be worth the clay it was made from, would it?" 

"Well, I meant a fake only in the sense it may not be from ancient Egypt. It could have been made more recently, but I dunno. I think we need more info on the ritual from Bobby. Want some pie?" He asked, even as he waved for the waitress. 

Sam shook his head as he smiled widely at Dean, glancing at the waitress as she came over. He did however order another soda to drink while Dean ate his slice of pie. They were in the middle of that when the news report came across the television screen. The cook turned up the volume as the news displayed a body lying on the ground, black slats across the screen covering the man's exposed private areas. 

As Dean listened to the report of about the body that had been found about twenty miles out of town, he lowered his fork. "Body drained of blood. Vamp. Ogar," he rattled off a few more creatures known to leave behind a bloodless body and shook his head. "Makes no sense. None of those things would create electrical disturbances."

Sam stared at the TV for a long moment before turning his attention to Dean. "We need to see that body," he murmured. 

"Yeah." Dean answered, kinda hoping they weren't thinking the same thing.

* * *

Getting into the hospital morgue had been easy. They'd snagged some lab coats from the onsite laundry and brought their own name tags. No one had really questioned them and the morgue had been empty, except for its two dead residents. 

Dean pulled the heavy metal drawer open, making a face at the cold air coming out of the refrigeration unit. The body was zipped up though there was an identification tag which Sam glanced at and gave Dean a nod. "So why don't you do the honors, Dr. P. Inass," he said, smirking and tapping Sam's ID badge, he added, "you do realize the 'P' stands for pain, right? 

Sam frowned at Dean in annoyance before reaching for the bag and unzipping it. He swallowed hard at the smell that came rushing out of the bag and his eyes flashed yellow briefly before he managed to get himself back under control, clearing his throat as he peeled back the plastic so that they could get a good look at the body inside.

The naked man on the table was covered in bruises and cuts and there was a deep purple bruise that ran along his rib cage as though the bones had been busted. Sam frowned curiously down at the form lying lifeless on the table, a bad feeling twisting in his gut. He reached up with one hand and pulled up a corner of the man's lip. His eyes widened with alarm as his actions revealed canine incisors.

"Dean," Sam gasped softly, "this is a werewolf..."

"Wha... huh." Moving in, Dean searched the body and rolled it to one side. "I don't see any bullet wounds or cuts that would kill a werewolf. Maybe there are internal injuries." His mouth flattened into a thin line. "You came to the motel just like this, only with worse bruising and cuts." His eyes met Sam's. "Maybe what killed this guy tried to get you but..."

"But what? But I killed it? But I got away? I don't even remember this, Dean! What the hell is happening?" He shouted, frustration and fear eating away at his insides and making him edgy. He squeezed his eyes closed as he clamped his mouth shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered before slowly blinking his eyes open once more. He shook his head, "I didn't mean to yell at you, this isn't your fault..."

"S'alright. It's killing me too, that you can't remember." Looking down, he inspected the body a little more. "Maybe hunters? After werewolves. Drugging them and then killing them? But why wouldn't they just do it with a silver bullet to the head? Someone or something toyed with this thing. This werewolf," he corrected himself. He'd spent more years of his life thinking of werewolves as evil things to be killed and was still adjusting to the notion that some of them, depending on the strain of wolf they'd been bitten by, had control and could choose to do no harm to humans.  
Sam shook his head, "They said he was drained of blood... vampires, they are a werewolve's natural enemy... maybe some sadistic vamp has it out for the wolves in the area?" He suggested. It was a long shot and he knew it, but it was the best he could come up with. "It's not like a vamp to drug its victims and then play with them... it'd be like you playing with your cheeseburgers," Sam explained with a shrug of one shoulder, "but I suppose it's possible, especially if this one was nuts... had a vendetta against wolves for some reason or something maybe..."

"And we're not even sure you were drugged. Could be amnesia from the way it hit you, though..." Dean looked up, "you were acting strange _before_ you left, which brings us back to drugs. Like you said, this whole thing makes no sense." Zipping up the bag, Dean shoved the drawer shut and then went to the small sink to wash his hands. "We'd better get out of here. Let's check out the place they found the body."

Sam's lips flattened into a thin line as he listened to Dean and the oddity of his behavior, behavior he couldn't remember. He nodded, thinking they needed to look for clues where the guy had been killed. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands after Dean, drying them on the paper towels from the dispenser nearby and tossing them into the trash afterward. He followed Dean, his attention turning back to the drawer that held the dead werewolf for a moment, before he walked out. Shaking his head Sam slowly tore his attention away and hung his head sadly. 

* * *

They'd checked out the place in the woods where the body had been found. Police tape marked the area off and as usual, they just ducked under it. Dean had noticed that for a body drained of blood, there wasn't much blood staining the ground or the area. There were also no signs of a struggle. Then Sam had called him over to show him tire tracks. That was interesting because most people, including the cops and rangers, would park their cars out on the nearby dirt road, just like he'd parked the Impala there and walked into the woods on foot.   
They'd concluded that the dead guy, someone who'd lived in the area for the last thirty years, had been killed elsewhere, then dumped. Would vamps even go through the trouble? 

Afterwards, they'd gone to the guy's home. Sam's sense of smell had confirmed what they'd visually seen, the guy had been a werewolf. He lived alone and was a tour guide for one of the many companies that took tourists to spiritual locations in the area or on psychic tours. 

Now they were in the small kitchenette of their own motel room, making some dinner. From behind Sam, Dean put one hand on his side and leaned in, grabbing the spoon in the pot of spaghetti sauce and taking a taste. "Mmm, it's good. Add a little garlic," he suggested, smirking as he leaned a little further, grinding against Sam's ass. 

Sam smiled and his hips cantered back, pressing his ass against Dean's hips teasingly. "I'm not gonna be adding anything if you keep that up," he warned. "We'll just wind up with burnt spaghetti." 

"You mean wind up with mushy spaghetti. Just so you know, there's nothing _mushy_ over here," eyes closing slightly, his kissed Sam's neck, making sure Sam could feel his erection pressing against his ass. 

Sam groaned softly as he tilted his head to the side, offering up more of his neck to Dean's attentions, his own eyes slipping closed. "Dean, come on," he whined when he could hear the sauce begin to bubble and boil. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, reaching for the temperature dial for the burner, turning it down. 

"That's what I'm doing... coming on ... to you." Dipping his hand under Sam's tee shirt, Dean pressed his calloused palm against Sam's washboard hard abs, pulling him closer. "It's your fault, you know. Always did get me hot, seeing you in the kitchen. Makes me want a little snack before dinner. Whatcha say?" He kissed the shell of Sam's ear, doing everything he could to get him interested in a quicky.

"Dean," Sam groaned, his eyes slipping closed once more. He reached back with one hand, pressing his palm against his lover's back, holding Dean's body up against his own as he wantonly writhed in his mate's arms. Screw dinner, dinner could wait. Hell, they could order out later for all he cared or just simply live on love. He was about to turn in his lover's arms and suggest that very thing when a wave of dizziness swamped his senses making him feel like the room tipped on its side. His vision flashed between the colored world of man and the black and white one of the wolf. His hand pulled from around Dean and he lowered both hands down onto the stove top, not even noticing that the edge of one hand was sizzling on the corner of the hot burner. His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head and squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to clear his addled brain. His breaths came in ragged pants and a fine sheen of sweat broke out across his skin.

"That's more like it..." Dean started to whisper as Sam bent over for him when the smell of burning flesh had him glancing at the stove. "Sam what the--" Grabbing Sam by the waist, he bodily pulled him away from the stove and reached for his hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded, turning Sam's hand over and frowning at the deep red marks.   
"Sam..." when his gaze met his lover's, all he got was a blank stare. Snapping his fingers in front of Sam, he shook his shoulder. "Sammy?" 

Sam's lip slowly curled upward in a snarl and his eyes flashed yellow. Pulling back his injured hand, Sam doubled it into a fist and followed through, punching Dean hard in the jaw before turning and racing to and out the motel room door. He continued running for all he was worth toward the tree line and past, disappearing into the thick brush of the swampy forest. 

The unexpected blow had sent Dean crashing into the small table, almost toppling it over. By the time he recovered, Sam was out the door. Shoving a chair out of the way, Dean ran out the door, pin pointed Sam's location and started chasing. "Sam... Sam!" he shouted, lengthening his strides. Even in human form, Sam was the faster runner, but Dean was motivated, real motivated to keep up. "Sam, stop!" he shouted, jumping over the large roots of a tree and cursing when his foot landed in a puddle.

"Sam!" Catching sight of him running between some trees, he started after him again. No way. No way was he going to let him out of his sight. 

Sam continued running until he was out of breath and his side was hurting. Dropping down onto his knees on the ground he felt the change begin unexpectedly, as though he had no control over it. His face tilted upward, eyes on the dusky sky and the sliver of a moon. Even in the daze that his mind was in, trapped and unable to break himself out of whatever this was, a part of him knew that this shouldn't be happening, not unless he allowed it. The change only forced itself upon him days before and during the full moon. Not now, not when he should have more than two weeks of relative freedom from the wolf that dwelt inside.

He cried out with the pain of the forced shift, sending birds scattering out of nearby trees and squirrels scurrying out from the underbrush. The cry of a wolf sounded soon after just before the black wolf continued upon its journey deeper into the forest toward its destination.

"Sam... Sam... Sam..." Clapping his hands on his head, Dean spun around, shouting for Sam and looking up at the trees. Sam's cries and the birds taking flight told him that Sam had shifted. He had no prayer of catching up to Sam now, not unless Sam was injured or wanted to be found. A cold hand closed around his heart and started to clench around it.


	3. Chapter 3

Unable to just sit and wait, Dean had cruised around with the car. He'd gone around town and searched the outlying areas. He'd been to where the other werewolf's body had been found, not once, but three times already, approaching the area with dread weighing him down. When he found nothing there, no signs of Sam, he told himself it was okay, that it was good news. But deep down, he knew damned well Sam could be... probably was in big trouble somewhere. Alone. 

No... Sam was a hunter. He'd gotten away from whatever he'd tangled with before. He'd do it again. He had something, _someone_ to come back to.

All night long, Dean rode a rollercoaster of emotions. This was why you didn't get into long term hook ups. Why you didn't fall for anyone. Not if you were a smart hunter.

Yet, he knew he wouldn't give up a moment of the time they'd shared together. Or, Goddammit, a moment of the time they would share in the future.

***

Sam crawled, dragging himself out of the woods. His body ached and throbbed, he wasn't certain that he hadn't broken a bone or two. All that he could remember was the sight of gray cracked stone above him and the feeling of helplessness that had nearly suffocated him. 

Lifting his head, he tried to gage where he was and how far he had to go to get back to Dean. He'd exited the woods in an area he didn't know or couldn't remember, but it was a place that had the distinct odor of werewolf and death. He continued crawling, forcing his body to move. He rolled down the incline of a ravine and wound up laying there flat on his back a moment as he drew in ragged harsh breaths. Rolling himself over, he dragged himself out and across the hard relentless asphalt. If he could just get to the other side of the road, he was certain he could find the way back to Dean. He had to be around here somewhere.

 _'Dean...'_ his mind screamed as panic gripped his chest. He was lost, how could he be lost? 

*

"Oh hell to the no!" Dean slammed the brakes and swerved to the unpaved shoulder of the road. Throwing the car into park, he opened the door, left the car running, and headed across the street.

He hadn't been seeing things. It was Sam, butt naked and struggling to crawl and falling flat on his face. "Sam!" Reaching him, Dean dropped down to his knees and rolled Sam over. Seeing Sam's eyes open, he let out a breath. "I gotcha." Shoving his hand under Sam, he gritted his teeth and pulled him up off the ground. Once more, he heaved, and had Sam's large body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. They were just damned lucky it was about five in the morning or there might be traffic and Sam would have been run over.

He got Sam to the car and struggled some until he got the passenger door open and had Sam lay down in the back. "Talk to me," he said, getting his flashlight and running the light over Sam's body, his frown deepening at new bruises and deep cuts. When he focused the light up on his chest, he cursed suddenly. "What the fuck?!" Despite his angry words, he gently ran his other hand over the dark bruises circling Sam's throat.

"Hurts," Sam croaked. He swallowed hard as he stared up at Dean, one hand still clinging to the back of his lover's jacket, refusing to let go. "I think maybe I broke somethin'..." He frowned curiously at Dean touching his throat. "What is it, what's wrong?" He asked, lifting his free hand toward his neck. 

"Marks. Like chain link marks," Dean said, his jaw feeling very tight. Reaching over the chair to the front seat, picked up a plastic bottle of water, opened it and brought it to Sam's mouth. When Sam took it from him, Dean lightly ran his hand down Sam's body, inspecting him. "Where? Rib?" he asked, feeling Sam wince when he touched him there.

Sam nodded though he continued to drink feeling as though he couldn't get enough. When he finally pulled the bottle from his lips he was slightly breathless. "What happened?" Sam asked. "I mean, I can't remember how I even got out here, just that I couldn't seem to get my bearings when I came out of the woods," he shook his head, "it happened again... didn't it?" 

Giving a grim nod, Dean turned away and looked out the window for a moment. "I don't get it. You didn't eat or drink anything that anyone else had access to today." He looked back. "You acted strange again. You ran out in human form. Wouldn't stop even with me calling you. You shifted, and then I lost you. Sam, I'm thinking we need to get you out of here. I'll stay, figure out what the hell's going on."

Sam shook his head and tightened his grip on his mate's jacket, "No!" He replied anxiously. "I'm not gonna leave you here. What if whatever this is starts happening to you or... or something worse? No," he shook his head again adamantly, "No way. I'll be fine, we'll get through this... even if you have to tie me to a chair so I can't run out or something..."  
"I don't like it." His gaze pierced through Sam, but he relented. There'd be no way he'd leave Sam behind if their situations were reversed and he couldn't ask it of Sam, or force him. "Alright. Alright," he repeated reassuringly until Sam relaxed and let his jacket go. "I'm getting some clothes from the back, then we'll get you to the motel, figure this shit out."

Just as he prepared to back out of the car, he leaned in and held Sam close, resting his chin on Sam's bare shoulder for a very long minute. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

* * *

When they got back to the motel, Dean had to practically carry Sam inside. He helped Sam into the bed, took his jeans off and pulled the blanket up over him. "Rest. I mean that. While I get us some breakfast." He made some coffee for himself and got a couple of the child sized carton of milk out of the vending machine for Sam. Setting one next to the bed, he gave Sam a warning look and headed to the small stove. Breakfast would be the dinner that neither of them had last night.

Sam didn't argue, didn't really think he had the right since he'd come out of it... whatever it was ... to find himself totally disoriented and as weak as a new born pup. That fact scared him more than having Dean tell him that he kept wondering off somewhere. He was a werewolf and, unless silver was involved, he could hold his own against anyone or anything, even a vampire. Sometimes the fights went either way but he would at least go down swinging, but this.... this was nothing even close to that. It was as though whatever was happening was draining him of his power to fight. 

His mind drifted to the werewolf that had been drained of blood and he lowered his gaze, milk carton in hand, yet to be brought to his lips. He looked at his body, really looked at it and some of the bruising freaked him out, why was it still there? It shouldn't be. Whatever had happened, he should have already healed completely. 

He thought again of the marks on his throat that Dean had spoken of and raised his hand to his neck. He hated to say it, hated to admit it, but this was starting to scare him too. A fact that he couldn't share with Dean, he didn't need his mate any more worried than he already was. He lifted his gaze back to the milk carton and took a long drink, nearly draining it dry before setting it aside and laying back against the pillow. He was exhausted, from what, he had no idea. Again that gray ceiling popped into his head, the one from his dream and it had him frowning as he closed his eyes and gave in to his body's desire for rest. 

*

For Dean, it was another waking nightmare. Ten hours of Sam being completely unresponsive. Once Sam had fallen asleep, Dean hadn't been able to wake him again to eat breakfast or lunch. It was midafternoon and Sam was still out.

There had been more pacing. Watching TV. Calling Bobby and telling him about the guy who'd been found drained of blood and described his wounds. He hadn't mentioned the things Sam was going through 'cause Bobby didn't know Sam was a werewolf and he didn't want to give Bobby any reason to look more closely at his 'hunting partner.' 

He'd made some other calls too, found out the names of the dead werewolf's co-workers. He'd even gotten one of the co-workers to talk to him but what he found out wasn't reassuring at all. It just made him more nervous about the whole situation. 

Getting a beer, he went and sat on the bed next to Sam again, drinking and trying to concentrate on the TV. He had one hand on Sam's chest, the rise and fall comforting him despite all of his worries.

Sam groaned softly in his sleep and his head rolled toward Dean before his eyes slowly blinked open and he stifled a yawn, stretching lazily as though he'd woken up from a small catnap. His lips curled upward into a small warm smile as he gazed up at his lover, his hand sliding across the mattress and reaching for him. "Hey," he greeted, voice still rough from sleep. "How long was I out?" He asked, brow creasing in a frown. "Did ya eat without me?" He asked with a sniff, testing the air for the scent of food.

"Hey." Dean choked back a sob and just nodded, taking Sam's hand and squeezing it hard. "All day. How're you feeling? You're still pale. And the bruises. Still there," he whispered as if afraid to wake someone.

"Mmm," Sam hummed with a disgruntled frown creasing his brow. He tugged gently at Dean's hand. "Come here?" He invited, biting his lip tentatively. "Lay with me?" He scooted back just marginally to give Dean more room. 

"You should eat something. Lemme warm up some food," Dean answered, looking down at Sam. He was scared for Sam, but trying not to show it. He was also thinking that before it got too close to dusk, he'd have to find some way to tie Sam down. Then again, if he wolfed out, there wasn't much Dean could do to stop him.

Sam nodded, his gaze lowering dejectedly. He knew Dean was right, that he needed to eat something, but he had just wanted to hold onto his mate and pretend even for a moment that none of this, whatever this was, was happening. "Yeah, okay," he agreed as he lifted his eyes back to Dean's face. He waited until his lover started to stand before speaking again. "Dean," he called softly. His lips twitched hesitantly up at the corners in an adoring, barely there smile, "I love you." 

"Course you do. I'm lovable." Dean smiled back. "Hold that thought. Okay? Cause after you eat..." Practically leering at Sam, though all he planned to do was hold him in his arms, Dean got out of bed. He'd set aside a bowl of pasta with sauce and now put it into the microwave. 

Sam chuckled at Dean's response to his profession of love. He knew that those times when Dean said things like that were just Dean's way of saying them back, but the different things that Dean would come up with to avoid the actual words were often quite humorous. His gaze lowered as he nodded an affirmative to Dean's profession of being loveable. He was right, he was that. His gaze lifted as he listened to Dean go on and his brow quirked at the suggestive tone in his lover's voice, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "I might just hold ya to that," he promised as Dean got out of bed and walked into the kitchenette area of their motel room. 

"So, did you dream anything," he asked, looking over at Sam from the kitchenette. "When you were out."

Sam frowned thoughtfully at Dean's inquiry about his dreams and remembered nothing other than the gray moldy cracked ceiling. "Yeah," he said at long last, "I remember I dreamed about staring up at some stone ceiling," he replied and shook his head dismissively. He gave a breathy chuckle, "I think I've been bottoming too long, I'm seeing strange ceilings in my sleep. Maybe it's your turn," he mused with a lascivious smirk. 

"Guess I'll soon be seeing mattresses in my dream, I mean when that happens to me." Chuckling, Dean brought the bowl over. "And... it's not like I don't like taking it as much as I like giving it ... to you. Now eat this and try not to get a hard on," he challenged.

Sam snickered as he took the bowl of spaghetti from Dean, shaking his head at his incorrigible mate. He stirred the spaghetti thoughtfully before looking back up at Dean. "Have we been anywhere with high gray stone ceilings... moldy... so much so that it tickles my nose," he inquired, biting at his lip. "I just... it seemed so real..." 

Getting back on the bed, this time putting his arm around Sam, Dean thought on it. "Been lots of places, but stone ceilings. No, can't think of anything like that. If it wasn't a dream and it's a memory... You know, most buildings around these parts are made of wood or stucco over concrete. But made of stone? We could look into structures made of stone."

Sam quirked a brow at his lover as he twirled his fork in the spaghetti, getting a mouthful ready to eat, "Uh, somehow I don't think I went to some weird place made of stone without you and decided to just lay flat on my back and stare up at the ceiling," he muttered before turning his attention back to his food and taking a bite. 

"Well I wasn't with you last night," Dean reminded him, getting a little uptight now at the thought of what Sam had been doing on his back, if that's what Sam was implying. Had he been tied down like that? In human form or wolf? He blinked, "what do you mean cracked? Cracked open all the way or what."

Sam slowly lifted his head and his gaze to Dean, his mouth full of food. He held up a finger as he chewed and swallowed, giving a small shrug of one shoulder. "I dunno, cracked like, cracked. It was..." he frowned and shook his head, "I dunno, it's kinda fuzzy... I just remember seeing it..."  
"Well keep trying. If you get back any of it, anything that happened, anywhere that you went, it would really help." He watched for a moment as Sam ate. "I got a hold of Seth Garner's co-workers. Interviewed him. Looks like the guy had no enemies, none that anyone knew of. He was loner though, which made sense with him being a werewolf. No girlfriends, didn't hang out at bars or anything. But..."

Sam nodded, everything mate total sense with the guy being a wolf. Since he was a member of the human community, Sam had a pretty good idea that he was likely the same kind of wolf that he was - able to control the change for the most part other than under the full moon or in the days surrounding it. The fact that the guy didn't have a girlfriend that anyone knew about really didn't mean much, he could have had a girl from another pack or one that was actually canine. He'd heard of wolves that did that, went for their canine counterparts instead of human. Being able to put a paw into both worlds, it really didn't make you the pervert it sounded like but was actually just as natural as choosing a human. Dean's 'but' had Sam looked up at mate for an explanation.

"He said Seth came in to work five days ago looking all bruised and beaten. He was confused and couldn't explain where he'd been. His boss made him take some time off and told him to go to a doctor. He never went back to work after that."

Sam's fork clanked into his bowl as he listened to Dean, his eyes widening. Seth had gone through the same things that were happening to Sam, only it had culminated in Seth's death. He swallowed hard and lowered his gaze as he tried to make sense of it all. Finally he shook his head and lifted his gaze back to Dean, "No, no way, it can't be the same thing," he argued, more with himself than anyone. "No way I'm gonna wind up lying dead somewhere drained of blood," he said adamantly. A small laugh bubbled out from between his lips, "I mean, how crazy is that? It's just stupid is what it is," he retorted to himself, shaking his head as he threw back the covers and swung his legs out of bed, a mostly empty bowl in his hand. He was going to take care of his bowl, throw the left overs out and get dressed. He wasn't an infant and would damn well do that. And there was no way he was going to finish what was left. He might be being stubborn and refusing to believe that this was real, but the idea that it possible he was headed down the same path as Seth Garner has his stomach too twisted in knots to eat. 

"Where you going," Dean came off the bed at the same time as Sam. "Lemme take that," he said, grabbing the bowl from Sam's hand and checking him over, making sure he looked stable on his feet. "Why don't you take a shower? Relax. Then we can watch something and have popcorn in bed, hmm?"

Sam opened his mouth to argue and tell Dean that he could wash his own damn bowl only to snap it closed at the look of concern on his mate's face. He blew out a breath and hung his head, "Yeah, alright," he agreed. "I, y'know, could have done that," he muttered with a shrug of one shoulder. He bit at his bottom lip as he watched Dean walk into the kitchenette area then slowly turned and walked toward the bathroom like a man walking to the gallows. 

*

Having stood under the warm water allowing the warmth to wash away his aches and pains, Sam returned from his shower nearly a half hour later. His hair was still slightly drippy wet as he climbed back into the bed, fresh and clean and feeling a hell of a lot more like himself. "Ya know, we could fool around," he offered as he looked over at Dean who came to sit with him on the bed. "Seriously, I feel fine now," he insisted, "and the bruises are almost gone." 

"You know you don't have to prove anything to me. C'mere," Dean moved in as Sam moved closer to him, and putting his arm around Sam, he brought their mouths together, giving him a slow, lingering kiss. When they parted, he let out a hot breath. "You're smoking hot, you know that? And I'm... I'm gonna be good. Grab the remote." Still close enough to breath in Sam's clean fresh scent, and feeling the warmth of his body pressed against his own, Dean thought he deserved a medal for resisting.

Sam sighed in resignation. It was no use to argue and say they could do more or insist that he was fine. Dean was worried and a worried Dean was more stubborn than even Sam could be. He leaned against his mate and reached for the hand of his lover's arm that was wrapped around him, holding it within his own and lacing their fingers together as Dean searched for something to watch. It was getting late, the sun had already sank into the horizon a while ago. Maybe they'd have a decent late night movie on instead of some B-rated horror flick. Sam could go for something with a little less ghosts, ghouls and goblins in it tonight. 

As Dean flipped through the channels, they talked a bit about a football game that would be on tomorrow. Maybe they'd watch it at one of the sports bars in town, they agreed. "Know what I haven't done in like forever?" Dean asked. "Gone to the beach. After we're done with all this, what do you think about taking a couple days for ourselves?" A war, a job, an apocalypse... something was always coming their way. Maybe it was time to take some time for themselves, be a little selfish. 

Sam turned his attention to Dean, a smile splitting his face, "Really?" He asked incredulously. He couldn't believe it. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, quite the opposite, he just couldn't believe Dean was suggesting it. "Yeah, that'd be great," he agreed with a nod, "let's definitely do that." He chuckled and leaned slightly closer, "I can show you how well I can _doggie paddle_ ," he teased.   
That had Dean tipping his head back and laughing for the first time in what felt like days. "You have started to get yourself a sense of humor," he pronounced, turning and nuzzling Sam's throat. He remembered the days when his jokes about opening the window so Sam could hang his head out would earn him a pout or cold shoulder. "Damn you smell good." 

Sam's lips curled into a grin at Dean's laughter. He'd been hoping as much when he'd made the joke. He didn't want Dean to worry, didn't like seeing the lines of concern on his face or the look of fear he'd seen when he'd awakened and looked in Dean's eyes. Sam's eyes slowly slid closed as he tilted his head to the side, offering Dean more access. A soft moan came tumbling from his lips. "Yeah? Maybe you should show me," he suggested breathlessly. His eyes fluttered open to mere slits as he looked over at his mate. "'Want you," he murmured huskily. 

"Maybe just a little. Cause you're temptation and I'm... I'm weak." Kissing the nape of Sam's neck, where his hair was still wet, Dean shifted at the same time as Sam, laying down on the bed, on his side. "There will be no strenuous activity, you got that?" he said, laying down the rules even as he ran his hand over Sam's body, exploring every plane of his stomach and working his way up. 

"Mmmmmmm," Sam moaned his agreement as he nodded, "strenuous activity," he muttered softly on a pleasured sigh, "got it." Reaching for Dean's hand and guiding it down under the sheet to his cock, he bucked his hips wantonly as his eyes slid closed, a soft low moan tearing from his throat. 

"I said _no_ strenuous..." Seeing that Sam had closed his eyes and was already far far away, Dean stopped arguing. Palming Sam's cock over his shorts, he dipped his head down and stole a kiss, tangling his tongue with Sam's, loving the soft sounds he made and the way his breath hitched when Dean gave him more pressure. "So damned sexy," he said huskily, working his way down Sam's body, kissing his throat and moving lower.

He brushed his mouth over Sam's nipple, blew on it, then sucked on it. Fighting the urge to give Sam a bruise, he'd been bruised enough in the last couple days, he feathered more gentle kisses across his chest. "You. Me. Beach," he said between kisses. "I wanna fuck you in the warm water. Sun setting. Stars. And us, just us," he said, reaching Sam's navel and licking around it.

Sam's hand lifted, fingers combing through the soft spikes of Dean's hair as his mate kissed and teased him. "Yeah," he breathed, "want that too." He arched toward the heat of his mate's mouth, his hips cantering upward, pushing his dick into Dean's hand. "More," he begged softly. "Feels so good," he sighed, reaching for his mate with his free hand as his eyes opened to desire filled slits. He slid his hand down Dean's chest and abs, slipping it down under the elastic of his boxers and curling it around his lover's cock, giving it a firm gentle squeeze.   
"Whatever you want, baby." Pulling Sam's cock out of the shorts, Dean started to move his fist up and down in nice, easy strokes. His own body felt electrified by Sam's touches, his cock quickly growing hard and thick in Sam's hand. He rubbed his face across Sam's abs, kissing along the dip right next to his hip bone before rocking back on his knees, so he could watch Sam. "So damned gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous," he said, his eyes devouring Sam, looking down at both of their hands moving up and down, then back at Sam's face. 

Sam gasped softly as Dean started to stroke his cock, his hips bucking, pushing his dick into his lover's fist as low moans and soft groans tumbled from his lips. He pulled Dean's cock out of his shorts and began stroking his mate to the same rhythm that Dean set on his dick. His tongue darted out to lick across his lips before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and gazed up at Dean through lust blown pupils. "God, you're so beautiful," he breathed softly. "I definitely should have thanked that _thing_ before I killed it and saved you from it, kept you," he teased breathlessly. 

No more words were spoken, but it wasn't silent between them. They spoke with their eyes, gazes locking, shifting focus, blurring with lust, and locking again. Exhaled breaths that came quicker and harsher, long, drawn out moans that vibrated with need and love. Dean splayed his fingers wide and swept his hand up and down from Sam's stomach to his chest, leaning over a little more each time, pushing his cock harder into Sam's palm. Time stood still as they made love to each other on levels that went far beyond the physical.

Sam reached for Dean with his free hand, pulling him down over him as he lifted his head. He slanted his mouth over his lover's, kissing Dean hungrily, teeth knocking and tongue tangled, dueling and battling for dominance as their hips continued to thrust their cocks into one anothers’ hands.

A year ago, Dean wouldn't have believed anyone could stir up such emotion, such need within him. Kissing Sam back with everything he had, he fought the need to drop down completely over his lover, to fuck him into the mattress. Groaning, he broke the kiss. "Getting close," he whispered, stroking Sam faster, harder. The look of lust in Sam's eyes, the way he lifted his hips more erratically, pushed Dean closer to the edge. "Need you so much. In my life Sam, in my life," he said, allowing Sam to get a glimpse of his own fears. "Want this, want you with me, always."

Sam's back arched, moans and soft groans tumbling from his lips, mingling with his animalistic whimpers of need and want. His eyes squeezed closed briefly, only to blink back open once more, gazing wantonly up at his mate as they moved together, stroking one anothers' cocks faster, harder, purposefully. His expression softened at the anxiety in Dean's voice and he shook his head, his hand that had been at his lover's nape since Dean had broken their kiss sliding now to his cheek. "Not goin' anywhere. Promise," he declared. "Always be here with you, always," he murmured breathlessly, body straining up against Dean's.

"Better," Dean answered, a mock warning in his tone. "Come with me, come with me now," he said, lowering his mouth over Sam's once more, thrusting his tongue inside and tangling it with his lover's. His hips moved faster, his blood rushed in his veins, the sound of his heart beats thrumming in his head. "Ungh..." Dean grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as his balls tightened painfully against his body. The instant Sam thrust one more time in his hand, Dean came hard, his cum splattering all over Sam's stomach, in his mind, marking Sam as his, the same way he knew the wolf within Sam repeatedly marked him. 

Sam's breath panted out harshly, a muffled groan tumbling from his throat as Dean's lips crushed against his. His hips moved faster, thrusting his cock harder into his mate's hand as blood pooled low in his gut making his cock pulse within the cage of his lover's fist. Muscles tightening his hand at Dean's cheek slipped back into the short spikes of his hair, gripping a handful of the soft strands in his fist. A low growled groan tore from deep in his throat just as the first ribbon of spunk shot from his cock, spilling over and wetting Dean's hand. 

When they released each other's cocks, Dean lowered himself over Sam and continued to grind against him, slowly, lovingly, their hot sticky cum spreading across their stomachs. "So good, baby," he whispered, moving his mouth over Sam's jaw, nipping him, knowing it sometimes got a wolfish rise out of his love. 

Sam's head rolled to the side, body relaxed and sated, eyes softly closed. A low growl tore from his throat as Dean nipped at his jaw and he tilted his head upward allowing his mate better access, the wolf inside growling and snarling playfully. His back arched suddenly and he gasped, his head spinning just as it had when they'd been making spaghetti together. His eyes darted rapidly behind closed lids before springing open, staring unblinkingly up at Dean. He shoved at his mate as he attempted to rise from the bed, the rush of sound in his head drowning out everything else. 

At first, Dean put it down to Sam getting his alpha on, but once he realized the shove was meant to get him off Sam and that wasn't a way for Sam to roll them over so he was on top, Dean resisted. "No, Sam... no. Look at me, Sam, look at me," he insisted, shifting to use his body to trap Sam's. His legs pinned Sam's down, and his hand pressed Sam's wrists to the bed. "Stay with me. With me, Sam," he said, ignoring the dangerous yellow glint that replaced the dark green of Sam's irises. "Love you... need you," he said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep Sam under control. "Kiss me. Goddamnit, kiss me," he demanded, needing to take Sam's mind off whatever was torturing him, whatever was happening to him again.

Sam mindlessly struggled against Dean's hold, his eyes flashing between human and wolf, lip curling up as he snarled in warning. His back arched in an attempt to throw Dean's off. His teeth morphed and changed, jaw structure shifting as he snapped at Dean in an effort to bite him. Tendons and bones popped and shifted, his body shifting and shifting back, tears beading in his eyes. 

"No, Sam!" Dean had to change his hold now that Sam was going between human and wolf. "Fight it. Fight it for me, Sam, fight it," he demanded, his own eyes stinging when he could see the pain Sam was in. But letting him go, that would lead to more pain. He couldn't hold him, not if Sam really wanted to go. But he would do everything he could to make Sam fight it, want to stay. "Look at me, look at me baby... yeah, that's it," he felt tears sting his eyes as Sam went through another painful change. "I'm here, with you. Please stay with me, please Sam. Stay," he pleaded, a lump growing in his throat at the thought of finding Sam dead on some road or in the woods, like that Garner guy.

Sam's eyes shifted to Dean, barely seeing his mate through the haze that clouded his vision. His mouth moved as he tried to speak past a mouthful of canine teeth with canine vocal cords. A tear slid down from the corner of his eye into the hair at his temple when nothing but a soft whine and growl tore from his throat. His fingers shifted though his large paw curled over Dean's hand as though in a silent message to hold onto him, that he was holding onto Dean. 

"That's it... stay with me," Dean said hoarsely, curling his own fingers around Sam's. "You and me. Beach. We're gonna get there, right? Us," he said hoarsely, leaning his head down against Sam's, closing his eyes as he listened to bones shifting again. He came as close to praying as he could. "I gotcha Sammy, I gotcha," he said, only he didn't have him. It was Sam who was going through this shit. Sam who was hurting. And Dean had no idea how to help him. None.

Sam's eyes widened and his breaths came in ragged harsh pants as his body continued to shift back and forth between human and wolf. His neck arched back and a tortured scream tore from his throat just before he went deathly silent, eyes closed, his body lax. Sam lay there unconscious, half his body shifted to wolf, one leg, one arm, his eyes and teeth, ears pointed and furred like the wolfs while the rest of him remained human. 

Dean slowly released his hold, every muscle in his body burning from the strain of fighting to hold Sam down. "God..." He took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. Looking down at a sight that he'd ordinarily find macabre, all he saw was beauty. His Sam. At peace. 

Hand shaking, he felt the pulse at the side of Sam's throat. "Now all you gotta do is stay with me. All night, okay? Don't go anywhere, just stay with me," he said, putting both arms around his wolf. "Maybe you still feel me. Maybe you know I'm here. Here Sam, here for you." 

He held him like that, cradled him for hours. He couldn't sleep, wouldn't allow himself to, just in case Sam woke. He knew he had to be there to talk him down and make him fight whatever was forcing him away. 

*

Three beer bottles lined the table in front of Dean. He had his elbow on it and was running his hand over his face as he held the phone to his ear. "I care Bobby. I care because it's happening to Sam now."  
There was a silence, and then Bobby was yelling in his ear.

"Yeah, it's what I'm telling you. He is one. He's a werewolf, but listen to me man, he's got control. A lot of them do. No Goddamnit, you listen to me. He's a hunter, I told you the truth. A good one. But he needs help. I need help here. I need you to find what could be doing this to him." His voice grew hoarse. "I never asked you for anything Bobby, not for me. This is for me. Please." He pressed the off button on the phone, and turned to look at Sam's still body. It was almost morning. He'd wake soon, he had to. He just had to.


	4. Chapter 4

The bright ray of sunlight shining through the drapes had Sam squinting as he flexed sore muscles. When he felt fur where there shouldn't be any while in human form, he blinked his eyes open and tilted his head down, looking at his own body. The sight of his half shifted form had him gasping as he jack knifed into a sitting position. He ran his right hand over what should have been his left hand but was now a large black fur covered paw. He moved his hand first to one leg, a wolf's leg, then his other leg which was still in human form. "...Wha?" 

"Sam!" Dean practically jumped out of the chair he'd been sitting in next to the door, fighting off sleep. In a few long strides, he was next to Sam. "You blacked out, mid-shift. You're gonna have to choose what form you want to be in," he said, hoping Sam opted for human, but knowing his pain threshold was higher as a wolf. 

Sam's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he stared first down at himself then at Dean. This had never happened before, in fact he hadn't known that it _could_ happen. "What..." he rasped, his words slightly jumbled by teeth that were too large for his mouth, "What happened?" He asked then shook his head, his eyes closing. No, that wasn't what he meant. "How...?" He inquired, glancing down at himself then looking back at Dean. 

"I don't know." Dean felt helpless. "You started acting strange again. I could tell you were about to bolt. You remember that?"

Sam shook his head and slowly lowered his gaze. He lifted his hand and flexed his paw before taking a deep breath and making his decision. He glanced back before easing down onto the mattress, his eyes meeting and locking with Dean's. "I should..." he mumbled the words jumbled and hard to understand. He sighed in irritation and tore his gaze away. Closing his eyes he allowed the change to continue, slowly transforming himself into a wolf. 

Nodding, Dean put his arms around Sam's large furry body and rested his face against his back. "You fought it. Whatever 'it' is, you fought it, Sam. You never left. I don't know if you somehow got yourself to black out, or what. Important thing is, you're here." He gave a heartfelt laugh and squeezed the wolf one more time, before letting him go. Getting up, he stretched and ran his hand down his face.

"You hungry?" He didn't wait for an answer, but moved to the kitchen to get some breakfast for the both of them.

Sam climbed up onto all fours and turned, jumping off the bed and following Dean into the kitchen, his long claw-like nails clip clopping on the linoleum floor. He watched Dean as he began to get something fixed for them to eat, yellow eyes tracking every movement that his mate made. He gave a low whine and turned toward the door, gently clawing at it to go out before returning his gaze to Dean's questioningly. 

Looking down, a sense of dread filled Dean. Based on the last couple days, it was a safe bet that Sam was fine during the day. Then again, he didn't feel like betting when it came to Sam's safety. "You need to piss?" he asked, searching the wolf's face.

Sam pranced in place and whined pathetically.

"Hmph." Putting one hand out and grabbing a handful of Sam's fur at the back of his neck, Dean opened the door. "I'm coming with," he said, walking out with him and steering him toward the back of the motel rather than letting him run into the woods.  
Sam walked around a little then stood staring up at Dean. [ _Dude, you are so not gonna watch me piss. Turn around or somethin'..._ ] He growled deep in his throat and spun in a circle himself in an attempt to let Dean know what he wanted from him. [ _Oh come on man, human form is one thing, but not as a wolf,_ ] he whined, still watching Dean, trying to stare him down. 

"Sam... Come on, just do your business and let's get back inside," Dean said, scrambling to keep his hold on Sam. "And stop looking at me like that, not like I haven't seen you piss. In human form or wolf." 

If Sam had been able to, he would have harrumphed at that, but all he could manage was a low snarl before shaking his entire body in an attempt to rid himself of Dean. He jerked forward then back and started to run around Dean, excited and happy that he had managed to break free of his mate's hold since Dean kept grabbing him every time he'd managed to get a small distance away up until then. His tongue hung out of his mouth in what seemed to be, if one were to guess, a teasing manner as he raced around and around Dean. Finally he broke out of the circle he'd been nearly wearing into the ground and jogged over to an area near a tree, lifting his leg, he glared at Dean. 

Dean cursed up a storm, then sliced his hand through the air, giving up and letting Sam have his way. He gave the wolf exactly thirty seconds after he'd his business, before going after him. "Play inside, come on, Sam!" Grabbing him by the fur at the back of his neck, Dean found Sam staring again. "Oh come on, you don't have _other business_ ," he said, hoping he was right.

Sam jumped up, slapping his large paws against Dean's shoulders, his massive body pushing against his mate and making Dean fall flat on his back. Sam immediately licked Dean's face as he stood half on and half off of him.

"Ass. Aww.... cut it out Sam. Sam!" Despite his complaints, Dean was laughing, and hanging onto his wolf. "Alright, no need to show off your strength, no more licking... no! Bad wolf." He tried to wrestle Sam, and for a few moments in time, it was like everything was normal. They'd done this a hundred times before since Wolf-Sam seemed to love to play in the mornings, whether or not Dean was in the mood.

Sam pounced backward, his ass high in the air, head low to Dean's stomach, long tail sticking up in the air. He gave a playful growl and inched back, lowering his snout to the waistband of Dean's jeans and gnawing gently until he got a good hold of the denim material. He shook his head and growled, nearly causing Dean to slide on the ground as he playfully wrestled with Dean. 

"Whoa whoa whoa... watch the jewels," Dean said, "we both need those." Knocking Sam away, he managed to scramble up to his feet. "Okay, okay, you win. Now let's go get some of that delicious breakfast I made."

Sam whined but followed Dean back to the door of their motel room and once inside, he jumped up on the bed and pranced around on the mattress as he looked over the small counter at Dean, watching him get things ready for them to eat. 

"You're really frisky." Dean watched Sam under his lashes as he added some eggs to the pan. "I guess that's a good thing, all things considered." It was a great thing, actually. 

Sam tilted his head back and howled before lowering his head and jumping off the bed, trotting around to stand at Dean's feet looking up at him. 

"Ah... no, you're gonna have to wait for the eggs. Raw eggs, ick." When Sam advanced on him, Dean pointed at him, "Sit, I said sit! Bad doggie," he started to move around the tiny kitchenette, trying to escape Sam's playful tugs on him. "And don't you dare hump my le--"

The door opened, and Dean pulled the gun out from the small of his back and pointed at the opening at the same time Bobby entered, his own gun cocked and ready.

"Put that thing away, boy," Bobby said, lowering the gun, pointing it at the wolf's head.

Dean used the gun to motion to Bobby, still pointing it at him. "You put it down. Nice and easy Bobby, I mean it," he said, then he suddenly looked down and said in a tired sigh. " _You_. Told you to stop trying to hump my leg!"

Sam whined dejectedly before turning his attention to Bobby, growling out a warning low in his throat as he narrowed his eyes. He backed up, ass against one of Dean's legs standing between Dean and Bobby protectively. His lip curled revealing dangerous looking sharp canine incisors and the hair on his back stood on end defensively. 

"Oh for Chrissakes, both of you, stand down," Dean said, one hand grasping the fur and skin at the back of the wolf's neck. "Bobby?"

Cursing loudly, Bobby lowered the gun but it was clear he was prepared for anything. "Came to knock some sense into your head. Wait, did you say humping your leg?"

The face that Bobby made had Dean laughing. "I'm just that irresistible." He looked down. "Sam. Teeth. Put 'em away, Sam?"

Sam licked his chops as he stopped snarling, his yellow eyes intent on the hunter. He didn't move from his place protectively standing in front of Dean and refusing to move even when his mate tried to shove him away.

Bobby looked from the big furry wolf to Dean and lifted his brows, "So this is your boyfriend?" He asked incredulously. He shook his head, "What the hell's the matter with you, boy?"

"He cleans up good?" Dean pushed at Sam again. "Less hairy and... less stubborn. Come on Sam, just go lick his hand or something, make friends. For me," Dean added with one last hard shove at the wolf.

Sam looked back over his shoulder, growled and glared as much as a wolf was able to, at Dean. [ _I don't wanna lick his anything. He wants to shoot me! Last time I checked that makes him a non-friend._ ]

"Bobby, drop the gun. Please, just put it down." Seeing he was getting nowhere with either one of them, Dean nodded toward the door. "Then step outside. I'll talk to you out there." Dropping down onto his knees, he used his body to shield the wolf from Bobby. "I'm gonna talk to him out there, alright. Maybe you want to shift to human?" Leaving the suggestion out there, he started to get up.

Sam jumped up suddenly, giant paws against Dean's shoulders as the wolf stood on its hind legs and whimpered softly. His tongue darted out, licking the side of Dean's face repeatedly before finally dropping back to the floor. A growled whine tore from Sam's throat as he pranced in place, watching his mate walk out with the hunter. 

Pulling the door shut behind him, Dean leaned against it, arms crossed in front of his chest. "I know what I'm doing Bobby. You gotta admit, if he was dangerous, then something would have happened to me before. I've been with him almost a year. He saved me, for Chrissakes. He's not like the werewolves you've met."

"Uh-huh," Bobby drawled skeptically as he eyed Dean. "And the day," he shrugged and rolled his eyes, "or night when he bites ya and turns ya into what he is, what then, Dean? Hell, ya expect me ta come here an' put a silver bullet in yer head?"

Inside the house, Sam paced then moved over to the bed, jumping up on it in an attempt to see out the high window in the living room. Of course, if he were human it wouldn't _be_ that high. He huffed and jumped down off the bed, walking over to the door. He raised a paw and scratched at the wood as he whined deep in his throat. Glancing back at the bed, Sam turned and jumped back up. He turned around in a circle, the human part of his mind nearly rolling his eyes at the fact that the canine part of him demanded that he do this. Finally, he lay down on the mattress and squeezed his eyes closed, willing the change to happen. 

"Not gonna happen Bobby. And if it did, then there's no reason to think I wouldn't be like him, in control," he said. "He has saved people. A lot of people. He's a hunter, just like you and me. So he sometimes moonlights as a wolf. Is it weird, sure. Is it bad? Not in this case, not with him." Wanting to wipe the skeptical look off Bobby's face, Dean grit his teeth and looked away for a moment. When he turned back, the look was still there. "Okay, I get where you're coming from. But you know me, Bobby. You don't think I'd have put a bullet through his brain if he wasn't safe? It might'a killed me, but I'd do it."

Bobby sighed and shook his head as he looked away. "I know firsthand how hard it is ta kill the ones we love," he murmured quietly. 

"Yeah," Dean answered somberly. "Difference is, you _had to_ , and I don't. I don't, because Sam isn't some rabid werewolf." Dropping his arms to his sides, Dean put one hand on the door knob. "You gonna give us a chance, or not. I don't want to lose you." He needed Bobby to know if he had to make a choice, he was choosing Sam.

"The first time I see him go wolf on someone, Dean.... the _first time_ ," Bobby reiterated pointedly with a nod. "Otherwise..." he sighed heavily, "yeah, alight... I dunno why, I must be goin' senile, but yeah I'm with ya," he allowed. Bobby's attention went to the motel room door as it opened and a dark haired young man stepped out. He was holding a sheet around his waist and the rest of him was as naked as the day he was born. 

Sam's gaze darted between Dean and Bobby before he stepped over to Dean, wrapping his free arm around him and dipping his head down to bring his mouth near Dean's ear. "Everythin' okay?" He murmured hoarsely. 

"Yeah." Dean defiantly leaned in, closer to Sam. "As long as you don't wolf out and, you know, maul me. Unless I request it," he joked. "Bobby, Sam."

"Sam. Samuel Colt?" Bobby pulled his cap off and wiped his forehead with his forearm. "Now I'm seeing things."

"I know, God-like body, right?" Dean smirked.

Sam chuckled and shook his head at his mate, "Yeah," he muttered softly as he looked over at Bobby, "that's me. I let people think I was dead after...." he shrugged a shoulder. He returned his attention to Dean and leaned in, nuzzling against his neck, "I'd never hurt you, you know that," he whispered.

"Oh stop that," Bobby grimaced, waving his cap at the two of them before putting it back on. "Can we do this meet an' greet inside? Idgits," he muttered, following them into the motel room. 

"I was just fixing breakfast. Why don't you sit at the table and--"

"Why don't you stop telling me what to do." Bobby turned to Sam, his gaze narrowing at both of the men who seemed to be attached at the hips. "And stop hiding behind each other, I'm not about to kill you."

"He's not hiding..."

"Shut up," Bobby snapped at Dean. "So you disappeared. Then what?" Bobby demanded, his eyes drilling holes into Sam.

"I'll be over here," Dean said, getting some more eggs out of the mini-fridge. 

Sam eyed Bobby in silence for a moment and sat down at the table. Leaning back in the chair he crossed his arms over his chest.   
"And nothing," he said with a shrug. "After I was attacked by the wolf that changed me, I moved out to the woods to keep myself away from people because I didn't want to hurt anyone. How was I to know that I wouldn't attack the first warm body that came within a hundred miles of me?" He mused then gave a heavy sigh, glancing toward Dean before returning his attention to Bobby. 

"But the change happened, once, twice, over and over again, and I never had the urge to go to inhabited areas to hurt anyone. After a while, I became a healer. Why not? I had a lot of time on my hands to learn and it allowed me to stay in touch with the hunting world without getting caught up in it and having people ask questions... it's how I met Dean."

Bobby gave a grunt. "It's a fact that werewolves forget what they've done."

"New werewolves," Dean pointed out protectively. "Sam's been one for a long time, and he always remembers what he's been up to. Except..." Hoping Bobby wouldn't just latch onto Sam's recent experiences, Dean tried to make light of it, "he forgets the things he doesn't want to admit. Like leg humping, and begging for food," he chuckled. "And whatever is doing something _to_ him now." 

Sam smiled at his mate and looked back at the elder hunter. He shook his head, "I'd never hurt anyone and if I did," he nodded, "I'd want someone to end me." He didn't see any point to insisting he'd always remembered where he'd been in werewolf form, from day one.

"Okay, that's the end of this conversation. No one is ending anyone, okay? I'm gonna make us a delicious breakfast, and then we're going to figure out what the hell's going on here, in town." 

Sam sighed and glanced over at Dean before looking back at Bobby, "I meant what I said," he murmured with a nod, "Dean... he doesn't like me to talk about it but... it's how I feel."

"The end." Dean gave both of the other men a warning look, and plopped a plate on the table in front of Sam. "Eat. Everything. I mean it," he said, turning around and returning only to slap a tall glass of orange juice in front of Sam. Then he brought over a plate for himself and Bobby, neither of which was as loaded as Sam's. "Think of it as brunch," he said, seeing as there were eggs and bacon and left over spaghetti. "Coffee?"

Bobby looked at the odd food combination and slowly lifted his gaze to Dean's face, "Yeah, I think so," he allowed, eyes slightly wide. His gaze slid to Sam who shrugged in response.

"Dean's worried," he explained as though that explained everything. He offered Bobby a small helpless smile. "I dunno what to do to help him short of chaining myself to the stove."

"Leave the state," Dean tossed out.

Bobby nodded, swallowing his food. "It's one option. You leave while we figure out what's happening. Unless it follows you where you go."

"Fuck..." That was one thing Dean hadn't thought of. 

Sam turned his attention to Dean and pulled to his feet, stepping over to his mate. He stepped around behind him, wrapping an arm around Dean as he dipped his head, pressing his lips to his lover's shoulder. "It's not gonna happen," he promised. "We're gonna figure this out and stop it," he assured. "Don't worry.... okay?" He pleaded softly. 

"For crying out loud," Bobby said, averting his eyes and staring into his plate as he cut into his food. 

"Wolves are touchy feely. I... like it," Dean admitted, turning his head to look at Sam. "Yeah, we are gonna stop it. And I got you to stay last night, and I'll do it again, and again, as many times as I have to until we get the son of a bitch that's after you."

"After him and at least one other person. Also a werewolf. Now if you boys would stop yer..." Bobby wiggled his fingers, "touchy feeliness, we can get back to the hunt."

Sam smiled, "I would think touching and feeling would be the last things you'd be worried about a wolf," he remarked. 

"You're not a wolf right now, are you now?" Bobby demanded.

"What he means is he's not used to me being handsy with a guy." Dean had told Bobby that he had a male partner and had made it pretty clear he meant that in more than just a hunting partner way, but hearing it and seeing it were two different things when Bobby had seen him solely with women for all the years they'd known each other. Grabbing Sam's hand, Dean pulled him to the side, and nodded at the chair. "Sammy, you have to eat. You're still looking pale. He's looking pale, isn't he?" He asked Bobby.

Bobby gave a shrug, dismissing the question. "About that gourd bowl, I found out a little more information." He dug into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out some copies of articles and pictures showing the bowl. Putting them down, he pushed the top three articles aside, and pointed to the last one. "This is one of the rituals, but I only found one sentence translated. Something about 'taking from one and giving to the other.' Can't make heads or tails of it, but I have an appointment with a professor whose specialty is hieroglyphics. That's still assuming the theft had anything to do with what's happening to ..." he nodded toward Sam.

Knowing Dean was worried about him, Sam did his best to eat. He lifted his gaze to Bobby after the man finished speaking. "So, this bowl is used in rituals that take from one and give to another," he frowned, "but how would that fit in with me? What could someone want from me? I don't have anything to give unless they somehow found a way to take the werewolf out of me, and if so, more power to 'em," he shook his head, "but I don't think it would make me go off in the night and disappear for hours on end, would it?"

None of them had answers to that question, so for a while, they ate in silence. 

"Bobby, this ritual, if that's what it is, why would they need Sam more than once? It doesn't make sense. He comes back with bruises and cuts, like they've beaten the crap out of him, and that doesn't make sense either. We were thinking there's not much that can fight a werewolf, so what about a vampire, or vampires? I mean something is catching or holding Sam down, it's just not... possible."

"Sounds like he's in some sort of trance that might prevent him from fighting. You thought about following him?" Bobby asked, putting his fork down and seeing the look on Dean's face, bracing.

"I am _not_ using Sam for bait. You got that?" Dean demanded, raising his voice. "No fucking way."

Sam lifted his gaze from his meal and looked from Bobby to Dean and back, "What'd you have in mind, Bobby?" 

"That instead of Dean stopping you, he let you--"

"No. It's too dangerous. Goddammit, you didn't see what he was like after. Lifeless. Like I wasn't gonna get him back. Answer's no, end of story. We'll find another way." Dean's gaze moved to Sam and he shook his head. "We're not going that route Sam." 

Sam sighed as he looked over at Dean. He reached for him grabbing a handful of flannel and tugging his mate closer before allowing his hand to slide up and back, cupping his nape. "I know you're worried, babe, but if this'll help us find out... if this'll tell us what's going on," his lips quirked just slightly at the corners teasingly, "then you get to save _me_ from the big baddie this time," he said, winking at his mate before leaning his forehead against Dean's. "It'll be okay, you'll be with me. I love you," he whispered. 

"No," Dean whispered, icy cold fingers clenching around his heart. "There's no way I could keep up with you. No way."

"Tracking device." Bobby got up, took his plate to the sink and started washing it.

Dean shook his head 'no,' closing his eyes against what he saw in Sam's eyes. "Don't ask this, Sam."

"Dean," Sam said gently, "a tracking device would be a perfect solution. You might not be able to keep up with me in wolf form, but this would tell you where I was the whole time. Dean, please..." he pleaded softly. "We wanna go to the beach soon right?" He recalled and shook his head, "We can't do that if we don't clear this up." 

"We can't do that if you're dead, Sam." But Dean could feel he'd already lost the battle. Sam thought Bobby was right. Bobby thought if this was anyone else, Dean would be all over the plan. And unless Dean insisted they leave the state, just get the hell out and forget about the hunt, this thing was happening. "I have a bad feeling..." 

Sam leaned in and kissed Dean's lips softly. "Don't," he whispered and kissed his mate's lips again, "everything," he kissed his lover again, "is gonna", he kissed him again, "be", and again, "fine," he finished with one more kiss before sucking Dean's bottom lip into his mouth briefly before releasing it, his own lips curling into a reassuring smile. 

"Cut that out," Bobby said, making a face as he came to get the rest of the plates. "Can't you two go to a motel room or somethin'?" He didn't even realize both men were staring at him like he was nuts.

* * *

They'd eaten dinner early and were hanging out in the room. Dean couldn't sit still. He kept looking at Sam, searching for signs of when it would happen. When something would come over him, make him do things he didn't want to. After being told three times to sit down and stop ripping up the carpet, Dean sat at the table next to Sam, comforted only slightly when Sam took his hand under the table. Bobby set a beer in front of him and Dean drank a bit of it. He knew he had no reason to resent Bobby, the man had suggested what Dean himself would have suggested if this weren't about Sam. Yet he couldn't shake the emotions that were troubling him.

Then it happened. He felt Sam go stiff and saw his head turn toward the door. Felt him unlace his fingers and try to pull away, though Dean didn't let go of his hand. He leaned in, "Sam. Sam, look at me."

Sam's was completely unresponsive and got up, trying to shake his hand free. It was stupid to get his feelings hurt over that, but it seemed Dean didn't have complete control over his feelings where Sam was concerned. He was tempted to push Sam back down into the chair, to talk sense into him, to convince him to stay like he had last night. Then he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, turned and saw Bobby armed and ready. Reluctantly, deeply unsure he was doing the right thing here, he let Sam go. 

The moment Sam walked out the door, Dean grabbed his weapon. He and Bobby raced out behind him, but Sam shifted as he ran, something else Dean had never seen him do, not in one shot like that. "Sonova..."  
"Dean!" Bobby jumped in his truck and brought it around to get Dean while Dean kept his eyes on the wolf until it disappeared into the woods. 

The minute Dean slammed the door shut, he shouted, "Go, go, go!"

The truck bounced over a concrete parking block and Bobby had it on the road. Dean pointed straight ahead and watched the tracking device in his hand. "Highway, looks like we can parallel him," he said, knowing it would be much faster than going at it off-road.

They'd driven a good hour when Dean started to curse up a storm. "He can't keep running at this pace. Whatever's making him do it, it's gonna kill him. God dammit, when I get my hands on--"

"Which way? Dean?"  
Looking down, Dean cursed again, "Get off the highway, right here... now!"

The truck dipped into the incline, bouncing all of its contents. Dean had on hand on the ceiling to prevent himself from hitting the roof. Then they were driving over some large rocks and heading into the wood. "There's a trail right there."

Swerving, Bobby took the truck in that direction.   
"We can't let him get away."

"We won't. Hold on," Bobby ordered, turning on a dime. The truck kicked up a dust cloud behind them.

"He's slowing down. Step on it!"

"Boy, if I could go any faster this would be a different truck."

Hours later, the tracking device showed Sam had stopped. Bobby and Dean got as close as possible with the truck, then taking out their rifles and guns, headed into the thicker woods. Dean's face was as hard as granite. He had one thing on his mind. The death of whoever or whatever was messing with Sam. He felt the occasional glances from Bobby but ignored them completely. This was personal, so yeah, maybe he wasn't thinking with a cool head, that didn't mean he was gonna fuck up.

"Which way?"  
Dean looked down and pointed. When they were within fifty feet, they started to move more quietly. Dean pushed some vegetation out of the way and saw something golden brown. Bobby circled around, then they both started to approach.

"Shit!" The large cat got up and started to spring at Dean when all Dean was focused on was the tracking device on the animal.

"Dean!" Bobby's shot rang out, missing the animal but sending it into the woods. "Florida panther," Bobby said sighing and taking his cap off. The two men looked at each other, neither stating the obvious. Then Dean was running for the truck, with Bobby hard on his heels.

* * *

Propelled forward by his strong hind legs, Sam couldn't seem to stop or slow down no matter how much he tried, no matter how badly his lungs burned with the need for oxygen. His wolf tongue hanged from the side of his mouth and his breaths panting out heavily. His heart was going to explode in his chest, he knew that much, but his body and mind wasn't his own to command as he ran for miles and miles.

Suddenly, he was skidding to a halt and _she_ stood in front of him. 

Cruel hands grabbed for him and a yelp tore past his throat as he was manhandled. Sharp nails dug into his flesh as the tracking collar was ripped from around his neck and his large heavy body was hefted by the scruff of his neck the position nearly paralyzing his limbs as he was carried over to a small cage and he was shoved inside the too tight space.

Unable to turn around or stand up, Sam was trapped. He could feel whatever the truck the cage was on begin to move, taking him far away from the trail that he'd been running on and deeper into the woods. He wanted freedom, wanted to rip the cage apart, but his will was sapped and under someone else's control.

*

He must have passed out from sheer exhaustion because the next thing Sam knew he found himself strapped to a table unable to move with a muzzle locked securely around his snout. Yellow eyes blinked in the dim lighting as he looked around the room, taking in his surroundings, the cracked grey moldy ceiling above him and the metal medical slab on which he lay. His eyes darted to the side as he saw _her_ step up to him, pushing a small metal tray up next to the table on which he was bound. Scalpels, a small bone saw, a syringe filled with some sort of liquid tipped with a long needle and other metal implements were laid out within easy reach.

Madam Verlaine's lips curled upward in a cruel wicked smile as she reached out, running her hand through his thick black fur. "You were a bad puppy," she purred, "and now you have to learn to obey," she said as she reached for the needle with her other hand. 

Sam growled, his eyes darting away from hers, searching for a way to get away from her only to catch sight of another wolf laying not too far away on a table much like his own, its body nearly shredded, blood dripping off the table and into a bowl on the floor. It appeared to be dead, although it hadn't changed back into its human form. 

"Oh don't worry, he's not dead, not yet," she murmured. 

Her words had his eyes snapping back to her face and a low snarl tearing from his throat. 

"He will be soon though, after I've finished with his punishment," she continued, "and he didn't even piss me off as badly as you did..."

A few moments later Sam's whines and whimpers filled the room, echoing off the walls of the stone ruins of the structure. 

* * *

Sam staggered through the woods. He'd managed to chew through the leather straps securing him to the table after Verlaine had taken off the muzzle when she'd started pulling teeth. Luckily, she'd only managed to get one of his back ones before a riot outside had pulled her away from him, leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood, weak and near death. In a desperate attempt to save himself, animal instinct for survival having taken over, Sam had chewed through the leather despite the pain in his mouth. He'd collapsed when he'd jumped off the table and he hadn't had the strength to move for a long while, but then adrenaline had kicked into high gear and, somehow, he'd managed to slink out, carefully making his way around the back of the stone buildings and then heading into the woods, making his way back to Dean.

He hadn't gotten far when his legs went out from under him and he collapsed onto the ground with a whimper. [ _'Dean...'_ ] Sam called out as his eyes rolled back in his head and unconsciousness threatened to pull him under.

The snarl of another wolf nearby had Sam's eyes rolling in that direction as a huff left his lips. It looked as though he was about to get into a fight and he didn't even have the strength to lift his head. His muscles tensed however and a snarl of his own tore from his lips as he prepared for the fight he knew he'd lose. 

What stepped out of the brush however, had Sam's eyes slipping closed with relief and he would have smiled if he'd had the facial muscles of a human. A whimper left him as the dog trotted over to him and nuzzled her head against his. 

[ _'Nakita, help me...'_ ] 

*

Daylight hadn't broken yet. Bobby and Dean were cruising the area in separate cars, covering more ground that way. They'd been at it for hours, and then met at the motel to see if Sam had maybe come back. Dean had known in his heart that Sam hadn't. As they'd poured some coffee to take with them, Dean had told Bobby that Sam never came back before morning, that maybe they'd have better luck in a few hours. His words were stilted, a part of him clearly angry at having allowed Bobby and Sam to talk him into letting Sam be used as bait. Bobby seemed to understand. For the most part, he was quiet and just listened.

They walked outside and locked up, and Dean started to take a couple of steps toward the parking lot when he saw a movement in the tree line where Sam had first disappeared. "Sam..." he whispered, but stayed still when another animal ran out. He blinked. "Nakita!"

"Na what? Shit, you been hangin' around more wol... it's a dog." Bobby said, screwing his face up in puzzlement. 

Dropping the full cup of coffee, Dean met the dog half way between the woods and the parking lot. Immediately Nakita grabbed the bottom of his shirt and was tugging him. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Show me where Sam is," Dean said, following the dog once it released him. 

They ran through the woods a short ways, and then he saw his wolf laying on a heap of leaves.

Dean's heart pounded. Words of denial already coming from his lips in silent pleas, "not dead. Please don't be dead. Cant..." When he reached Sam, he dropped down by his side and put one hand in his fur. It was still dark, he couldn't see well, but he felt matted fur and blood under his palm. "Sam... Sam." There was no movement, but the wolf's body was still warm. Dean dug a small flashlight out of his jacket pocket and aimed the light at wolf, slowly moving it up his body. The wounds and amount of blood on his body was nothing compared to the blood on his face. "Nooooo!" he shouted, putting his arms around the wolf's large neck and holding it close. 

He vaguely heard some yapping, and his name getting called. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he was rocking Sam back and forth, begging him to come back, not to be dead... not to leave him. Maybe he was stuck some place in his mind, but what brought him out of it was a sharp nip on the ear.

"Ow!" he growled, glaring at Nakita.

Nakita had been prancing around Sam's body trying desperately to talk to the human, to Sam's human but he didn't seem to be listening. She pawed at Sam's body and still the human seemed to be oblivious to her presence. Finally running around the two of them she lifted her head and nipped at the human's ear much the way she's seen human's do to their young with their paws in order to get the cub's attention. 

"Son, I'm sorry," Bobby began only to pause in his words as the dog bit Dean's ear. He pulled back and eyed the dog as though it were off its rocker.

She barked at Dean as he looked over at him, mindless to the look he was giving her, she backed away a few steps and then came forward again and lowered her head, grabbing a mouthful of Sam's fur, tugging him away from Dean and toward where Sam had sent her to find his mate. 

[ _'You have to get him out of here, you moron!'_ ] She screamed in her head at Dean.

"Uh, not that I speak dog or nuthin' but, ya think maybe she wants us ta move 'im?" Bobby suggested. He lifted his cap and ran a hand over his balding head in disbelief. "I'm the friggin' dog whisperer now," he muttered half under his breath as he replaced his cap. 

"Stop that." Logically, Dean knew she wasn't hurting Sam any more than he was already hurt, but logic had gone out the window the moment he saw Sam motionless. He started to pick the wolf up, gritting his teeth and straining. Somehow Sam felt even heavier in wolf form. A second later, Bobby was helping him and they were able to move quite quickly. It was a good thing it was this early or they'd probably have a lot of people gawking at them.   
When they got into the room, Bobby let go and went to spread some towels on the bed, then came back to help Dean. They laid Sam down on his side and Nakita jumped up on the bed, as if she was inspecting what they were doing. With the lights on, they could see the full extent of the damage. 

Eyes stinging a little, Dean kept bringing his hand to Sam's muzzle, reassured by the shallow pants of hot breath he felt against his palm. "What would do this? What does it gain from this?" Dean asked, stroking Sam's body. "I get killing something you hate. Or stringing them up for food later. But what the fuck is this?"

Bobby shook his head disgustedly. "Torture, that's what this looks like. Like something or someone was pissed maybe."

Nakita whined and laid down next to Sam, her eyes darted between Dean and Sam as she edged slowly closer to Sam's body and upward on the bed. She moved her head over Sam and her tongue darted out, lapping away at the blood covering his fur in an attempt to clean him. 

Dean almost reluctantly moved away to get some wet towels. When he returned, he gently started to clean the wolf's face, hoping that the blood soaking into the towel right under Sam's mouth didn't indicate internal bleeding. He cleaned as much as he could and saw that blood was still dripping from one corner of the wolf's mouth. Slowly, he spread Sam's lips apart. "His tooth. This thing took his tooth," he said angrily, pressing the towel down into the empty space to staunch the flow of blood.

"Tooth. I ain't seen nothing about that in the references to the gourd, but there are many rituals that use teeth and hair. I'll make some calls," Bobby said.

Dean nodded and finished cleaning one side of the wolf up with Nakita, then rolled him over to take care of the other side. Under his breath, he talked the whole time with Sam, reminding him of what he needed to get back for, the beach vacation they were gonna take. Occasionally, he spared a pat for Nakita. No, he wasn't overly fond of her, but she'd helped Sam, and was Sam's friend, that was good enough for Dean. 

A few hours later, while Bobby and Dean were busy researching on the lap tops, the wolf started to make some yelping sounds and moved around. Dean immediately got up, then realized he was changing. "Bobby, mind turning around? I don't think he'd like you to see this," Dean said, moving to the bed.

Bobby looked up, his brow creased in slight confusion before it dawned on him and he very nearly rolled his eyes as he sighed heavily in annoyance and turned away from the sight of Sam shifting. 

Sam whimpered as his muscles moved, ligaments tearing and joints popping, bones breaking and resetting. 

Nakita stood up on the bed, her attention focused on Sam as she anxiously shifted her weight, low growls and whimpers tearing from her own throat. 

Slowly growls and whimpers turned to groans and soft wounded human cries as Sam's body changed from wolf to a human. He lay there, naked, body wet with sweat, breaths panting out with pain and fatigue. His hands curled against the sheets and towels, gipping handfuls of cotton and he started to clench his teeth against the pain that wracked his body only to cry out at a sharper pain. 

Dragging a sheet over half Sam's body, Dean curled over him, not putting any weight on Sam but holding him lightly. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Sam shiver and whispered to him that he was here, that they'd take care of him, that Nakita was here too. Sam seemed to calm down a little, but the shivering got stronger. Dean straightened and went to get the medicine that Sam whipped up on a regular basis. Seeing Bobby head for the door, he asked, "Where ya going?"  
"I'm getting ice. He's got a fever and we're going to have to bring it down."

Nodding, Dean dropped the little jar of medicine onto the nightstand and headed to the bathroom to run a cold bath. When he returned, he tugged a pair of shorts onto Sam's heavy body, talking to him, hoping for a response. But the only sounds in the room were his whispers and Nakita's whines. He let her lick at Sam, even though his instincts made him want to push the dog away. Sam had told him she could heal cuts and wounds. 

Later, he and Bobby carried Sam to the bath and put him into the cold water. Bobby added a couple buckets of ice and Dean held Sam up, making sure his shoulders and head were above water. 

Sam shivered with the cold, but his eyes still didn't open. He was hovering in that gray area somewhere between awake and unconsciousness. At times he could hear Nakita's whines and the rumble of Dean's voice. Though he wasn't totally certain what his mate was saying, the knowledge alone that both of them were here with him helped to calm the anxiety that had claimed him.

Nakita paced beside the tub, nudging Dean's shoulder every so often as though asking him if Sam was better. Her ice blue eyes shone with tears as she gazed up into the human's green ones, neither of them seeming to know exactly what to do. 

Dean shook his head and just held onto Sam, sometimes using a wash cloth to bring some of the cold water up to his face. After about ten minutes, Bobby walked back inside with a towel.

"Sam. We're getting you out now," Dean said. "Can you hear me?"

Sam's head lulled back and his mouth opened on a pained gasp as his body was jostled.

Nakita shifted her weight from paw to paw and whined, a low growl sounding deep in her throat before barking.

"Nakita, get outta the way," Dean said impatiently. Then he looked at the worried dog. "Sorry, I need more room," he added more softly. "Bathroom's small." Usually, he felt foolish talking to the dog, but today, it didn't even register that he was doing it. 

He finally managed to get Sam pulled up, though Bobby had to help him. They wrapped only one towel around him and staggering, got him back to the bed. When they had him in bed, with just the now very wet sheet pulled over him, Nakita immediately jumped back up on the bed. All three of them looked down at Sam, his teeth chattering and his eyes still shut. 

"We're just gonna have to let him sleep it off. He's gonna come back. He did it before," Dean said, stroking Sam's cold cheek with the back of his hand. "He'll do it again," he said, reaching for the medicine jar. "He has to."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam groaned and rolled over onto his back. His eyes suddenly snapped open wide and he gasped in a breath staring fearfully up at the white motel room ceiling. "D-Dean?" He called hoarsely before a whimper next to him had Sam slowly tearing his eyes away from the ceiling, looking over at Nakita who lay staring up at him with her head against his thigh.

"Nakita," he sighed softly, moving one trembling hand over to run through the fur at the top of her head as he allowed his eyes to slip closed, his throat convulsing as he swallowed hard. 

"Water," Dean said, heading for the bed. "Sammy." He smiled down at Sam and brushed the hair back from his eyes. "Right here. I'm right here," he whispered, willing Sam to open his eyes again. When nothing happened, he glanced back at Bobby who'd brought a glass. 

Bobby shook his head at the silent question. He wasn't exactly sure what to tell the poor kid. 

Nakita whined and pawed insistently at Sam's chest which finally roused Sam enough that he stirred, eyes opening to mere slits as he moved his hand down from the top of the wolf's head to push at her attempting to shove her away with a disgruntled sound. 

"That would be a 'move it,'" Dean told the dog, shoving his hand down behind Sam's back and raising him slightly. He reached for the glass in Bobby's hand and brought it over to Sam's mouth. "Drink," he said. "It'll make you feel better." Yeah right, like a little water was gonna do that. But Dean was at a complete loss as to what to do and knew the only thing he could do was to wait for the wolf's healing to kick in.

Sam's lips parted slightly, just enough for the glass to fit between his lips. He choked a little on the water, sputtering for a moment before managing to swallow some more. Lifting his hand, he pushed at Dean's.   
"No more," he rasped softly, voice like sandpaper. 

Nodding, Dean gave the glass back to Bobby. "You want me to help you sit up?" he asked. "Blankets?" 

Bobby grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "I'll get him something to eat. Soup or..." he gave Sam a dubious look. "Raw chicken?"

Dean's death glare had absolutely no effect on Bobby.

Nodding, Sam eased himself up in the bed with a pained hiss. He glanced over at Bobby. "My mouth... soup maybe..." he murmured hoarsely. 

The door closed behind Bobby.

Dean put some pillows behind Sam's back. "Tooth's missing. Something pulled or punched it out. You remember anything," he asked, bringing a chair over to sit next to Sam. He took one of Sam's hands and turned it over, trying to control the rage that was slowly building inside him. He could only guess that Sam had been clawing away at something, trying to get away, or something had targeted his hands and feet. "Anything?" he cocked his head and locked gazes with Sam.

Sam's brow furrowed as he tried to think, to remember. Nakita's whimper and low growl drew his attention. "Nakita says she found me in the woods, that I was weak and covered in blood," Sam translated, turning his attention back to Dean. He swallowed and licked his lips as he nodded, "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, I remember... only bits and pieces, but I do remember a little," he confirmed. 

"I - I don't know how I got there, but the gray ceiling was back... it was moldy and there was the scent of blood and decay... I remember I couldn't move and then pain, there was a lot of pain," he shook his head and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. "I chewed through the straps and ran," he finished, "I don't remember anything else." 

"Straps." Dean's gaze fell to the dark bruise around Sam's throat, then back up to his face. There was a faint bruise from the corners of his mouth to his ears as well. Mouth restraints. "Try to remember what did this to you. A person. A thing? What put these restraints on you? Think Sam."

Sam shook his head, "I don't..." he mumbled wearily as his eyes slipped closed and he laid his head back against the pillows piled high behind him. "I don't know," he sighed. "It was... there was another wolf near me, bleeding.... so much blood. I was supposed to get it worse than he did," he licked his lips, "because I was a bad, bad puppy..." 

"Another wolf. Alright... okay, you know it was supposed to get worse because... who told you that Sam? Did you just... is it something that came to you in your mind, or was there a voice? A face?" Watching Sam's brows furrow, seeing him struggle, Dean gave him a little more water. "Keep trying. Something might come back."

Sam licked his lips as Dean pulled back the glass of water. His lip curled up in twisted and hateful smile as an animalistic growl tore from his throat, causing Nakita to lift her head and look up at him. "I know because she told me, right before she cut open my chest," he snarled hoarsely, voice whisper soft. 

"She. Who is she? A woman? Demon?" Dean had to ask because it was hard to imagine one person holding a werewolf down. Then again, whatever it was had been able to control Sam, force him to go somewhere. "Did you get a look at her face?" Dean got up and started to pace away, then came back.

Sam's eyes slipped open and he shook his head wearily, "I don't know, I don't remember," he confessed. "I'm sorry." he murmured softly. His head rolled against the pillows and his eyes drifted closed once more. "I'm just tired," he breathed softly, "Just really tired," he muttered hoarsely allowing the sleep that had been tugging at him the last few minutes to drag him under. 

"Sam." Dean gripped his arm and shook him lightly. "I'm sorry man, but you're gonna have to think harder, before it all slips away. Concentrate. Think back to when you were running from here, tell me everything you remember. Anything that comes to mind," he said, hearing the door open and shut and seeing Nakita get up, then lay down again, putting her head on Sam's thigh.

Sam startled awake when Dean shook him. Seeing Dean there, he blew out a breath and relaxed back against the pillows. He smacked his lips sleepily as he turned his head away with a frown, his brow creasing softly before looking back at Dean, shaking his head. "I can't," he replied groggily. Sniffing he struggled to sit up straighter, knowing how badly Dean wanted to know everything he could, needing him to try harder to remember. He sighed heavily as he thought back through it all. 

"I - I don't remember leaving here, I just remember when I woke up there... wherever there is. Like I said, all I remember seeing was the grey ceiling above me, the other wolf across the room from me.... he was laying on a metal slab just like I was. I - I could hear other wolves, it sounded like hundreds of them, yelping and whimpering," he said and shook his head. "I don't know what else I can tell you." 

"Okay, okay." Dean licked his lips. "You know that last night, before we left your cabin? You _felt_ the presence of wolves before they even appeared. This wolf that was bleeding, and the ones that you heard, were they wolves or werewolves?" When Bobby brought the soup over, Dean went to the bucket on the floor and grabbed some of the ice in it and dropped it into the soup. "Got a pulled tooth," he explained. 

"Werewolves," Sam answered without needing to think about it. "It's why I couldn't tell how many there were and I was shocked that the one laying on the table wasn't human. I was sure he was dead," he explained, looking up at Dean. His gaze darted to the bowl of soup in his mate's hand and back up to his face. "What kind is it?" He inquired, nodding toward the bowl. 

"It better not be raw chicken," Dean said, lightening up a little.

"I - _don't_ \- know," Bobby answered, "I asked for soup and this is what they gave me. Brought some pizza too, you should eat," he told Dean.

Ignoring the suggestion, Dean summarized the things Sam remembered, and then he turned suddenly to look at Sam and Nakita, a smile forming on his lips.

"Guess you oughtta not be a bad puppy any more, eh?" Bobby teased gently, a small smile on his face as he pulled out a slice of pizza and moved to take a seat in one of the chairs. 

Sam smiled weakly, "Guess not," he agreed with Bobby but his attention went to Dean and his brows, one hand moving to Nakita as he looked back at his mate with suspicion. "What?"

"You got away, so they didn't drive you anywhere, dump you. We know where you ended up and we got two _blood hounds_ , right here," he pointed at Sam and then Nakita. "So we don't need any electronic trackers. We just track your scent all the way to the bitch who did this. _That's_ what," Dean answered, his eyes growing hard as flint.

Sam looked anxiously from Dean to Bobby and back before his gaze lowered to Nakita and his hand smoothed over the dog's coat thoughtfully before he nodded. Lifting his eyes to Dean he offered his love a soft smile, "Just gimme five minutes, okay?" He requested gently. 

"Rest." Giving Sam a nod, Dean pulled some sheets over him, though he knew Sam would likely get hot quickly and kick 'em off. Giving Bobby a look, he walked with him to the other side of the room and reached into the ice chest for a couple drinks. "We're gonna take enough fire power to light the place up." 

* * * 

Six hours later, Dean and Bobby had their weapons ready and stood up as soon as Sam finished eating. "Sam, you sure about this? I know I said you and Nakita should come but... I dunno, maybe we should keep you here." He meant tied down, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "I mean what if she or they use their mojo on you again. You gonna be able to fight it?" He didn't mention the fact that Sam looked pale, his bruises hadn't faded away, and he was nowhere near ready to get into action.

Sam sighed and pressed his lips into a thin line as his gaze met his mate's and he crossed the room. Stepping up to Dean he slowly shook his head. "No, I'm not sure about this, mostly because I don't even know what it is we're fighting exactly," he murmured as he reached for his mate, holding onto Dean's sides. "And I have no idea," he replied truthfully, his lips curving into a bemused smile as he gazed into Dean's annoyed expression. "Couldn't tell you if I can fight it or not. But I know one thing," he continued. "I know I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he whispered as he leaned in, his lips hovering near his mate's. 

"Remember what I did to the mutated ghendara?" He mused with a deep animalistic growl as he recalled how he'd destroyed the creature that had almost killed Dean and left him hanging upside down. "Same thing," he promised with a smirk. 

"Better not end up in the shape that left you in," Dean answered, remembering how broken Sam had been. His answer didn't wipe the smug look off Sam's face so all Dean could do was shove him and hope for the best. He didn't have a prayer of stopping Sam, and maybe a part of him didn't want to. He'd talked Sam down before, stopped him from listening to whatever was fucking with his mind, and he'd do it again. "Come on Nakita," he let the dog and Bobby out, and then he started to help Sam out of his clothes. 

"I don't think you can go through this... whatever she or they are doing to you, again. You've got to listen to me. No matter what's happening in your head Sam, you focus on me," he said, peeling Sam's shirt off.

Sam watched Nakita and Bobby walk out the door before turning his attention to Dean, his eyes tracking each of his mate's movements as his love began helping him out of his clothes. His lips quirked into a grin at Dean's words and he nodded as his shirt slipped off his body to reveal his well-muscled chest and washboard abs. "I _always_ focus on you," he retorted flirtatiously. 

Sure, Sam knew that Dean was worried and that his mate was serious, but he couldn't allow himself to show his fears and doubts. He couldn't let his mate know that deep down he wasn't exactly sure how this would end, whether he would be coming back with his mate or if this would be the last time that they were together.

"Right. Always." Dean gave him a look, then pulled him into his arms and kissed him hard. "You better." With that, he started undoing Sam's pants, wishing like hell that they were someplace else, and this was going somewhere else. 

Sam chuckled softly and lowered his gaze to his mate's hands, watching as Dean's fingers deftly unfastened his jeans. "I think you just like it when I'm naked," he mused with a smirk as he slowly lifted his eyes to Dean's.

"I think you're right. Also, I think you pay more attention when I get you naked." Sliding his hands down Sam's pants and under his shorts to cup his ass, Dean pulled him up hard against his own body. "A little incentive to get through this safely," he whispered. 

Sam nodded, "I like that idea," he murmured softly and crushed his lips against his mate's, licking his way into the interior of Dean's mouth, soft almost mournful whimpers sounding deep in his throat.   
"Dammit Sammy, you know just how to make me stop thinking," Dean groaned. He didn't release Sam, twining his tongue around his lover's, he promised himself that he wouldn't let anything happen to Sam. They'd put an end to his torture. "Love you," he said thickly, before moving away to let Sam step out of his pants and boxers, and giving him a nod to go ahead and change. "Right outside," he said, backing out of the door, then leaning against the wall and watching Bobby and Nakita who were in the parking lot.  
"Love you too," Sam rasped, slightly disappointed that Dean had somehow found the strength to step back when he hadn't planned on it. Then again maybe it was a testament to just how much confidence Dean that they'd solve this and how little confidence Sam had, despite his resolve not to show his fear. He gave Dean a nod and watched his mate step outside before taking a deep fortifying breath and saying a prayer to a God that likely didn't hear the petitions of werewolves. Easing himself down onto his knees, Sam closed his eyes and allowed the change to begin. 

Dean heard a groan and then a whimper. Hid hands fisted at his side and he looked down at his feet feeling helpless. He knew the change was painful. That Sam's bones shifted, some of them breaking and reassembling in the process. He'd come to terms with the fact that it was the way it was, that every time Sam changed, the curse would bring with it the pain. But now, when Sam was already beaten and bruised, when he was weak despite his shows of strength, it was twice as hard for Dean. And twice as hard for Dean had to mean ten times worse for Sam. A cracking sound had Dean cursing under his breath and practically praying for the shift to take place faster.

A loud low whine that slowly turned into a howl came from inside the motel room before the door burst open and a large black wolf bounded out. He paused just outside and shook his body, his thick blue-black coat rippling over the powerful muscles underneath. Nakita trotted immediately over to the wolf and attacked one of his ears with a playful growl. 

Dean scowled but locked up and headed toward them. Stopping next to Bobby, he picked up one of the packs and felt the hunter's gaze on him.

"You ain't jealous of a dog, are you?" Giving Dean a disgusted look, Bobby gave him a shove. 

"Not exactly," Dean muttered, watching the two animals start to trot off towards the woods. "It's just... never mind."

"Idjit." Bobby took off.

Giving a shrug, Dean lengthened his strides and caught up. They followed Sam and Nakita, sometimes moving quickly over the wooded terrain, and sometimes standing around and waiting until one of them caught Sam's scent from earlier, and they were back on the trail. A couple of times, they went in circles, but for the most part, they were going deeper and deeper into the woods and darkness was falling.

Dean grabbed his flashlight and lit the way. "Sam, when we get close, you let us know," he said. "And stop playing around."

Sam's head turned from nipping at Nakita's sides and looked over at Dean with what could only be a smile, to the extent a wolf could make that facial expression. He threw his head back and let out a long low howl before bounding off deeper into the woods with Nakita hot on his trail, snarling and barking after him. They ran across fallen trees that bridged the gaps between gorges and through wooded areas that seemed to be leading nowhere before both Sam and Nakita suddenly came to a screeching halt, kicking up leaves around them in their haste to stop. 

In front of them, there appeared to be nothing but an open field though Sam and Nakita snarled and paced, blocking Dean and Bobby from going any further even as they kept their attention on what might come out of nowhere ahead of them. 

"What?" Dean looked around, figuring they'd have to cross the field. "Sam?" Exchanging looks with Bobby, Dean moved the flashlight over the ground, then walked over to an area that had some stained earth and grass. "Blood," he said, crumbling some of the earth between his fingers. "Bastards," he ground out, looking over at Sam and just knowing it was Sam's blood. "We must be close," he guessed, lowering the flashlight and covering most of it with his palm. "Let's get going."

Sam trotted over to Dean and whined softly, licking at his face a few times before backing up and turning as Dean suggested that they get moving. He growled low in his throat and backed up another couple steps before lowering his front half to the ground, his ass in the air as he whined again. Nakita barked and pranced in place before lowering down onto her front paws then lifting up and running back the way they'd come only to run back again and again. 

After a few more minutes of this, Dean got impatient. "Come on guys, what's the hold up? Sam, where's the trail?" When the wolf refused to budge, Dean spoke to the dog. "Nakita, come on. Which way?" He started heading for the dog but saw Sam's hackles rise. Staying stock still, he looked around, but there was nothing. "Sam, you want to wait here? Nakita," he insisted, nodding at Bobby when the dog started to sniff the ground and got moving again. 

Sam snarled and lunged forward at Nakita, attacking her. The two of them rolled on the ground in a fight. Nakita yelped loudly, the sound echoing off the trees around them before Sam stood to his feet and shook the leaves from his thick coat. His attention turned to Dean then as he crept toward him, his eyes tightened with rage and he bared his teeth, snarling. His legs bent as he neared his prey, ready to attack snout crinkled and his sharp teeth gleaming, saliva dripping from his jowls. 

"Stop. Sam. Sam it's me, Dean. Look at me," Dean said, keeping his voice calm and refusing to reach for a dagger. His gun was out of the question. 

But Bobby's was not. The sound of Bobby cocking his gun broke the relative quiet.

"Put it away," Dean said through gritted teeth, his eyes still on the wolf, trying to read Sam's intent. 

"Sam?" A female voice sounded from the tree line just before the scarlet robed, dark haired women stepped out of the shadows and into view along with the two large men who flanked her. "So, the beast has a name?" She mused with a wicked laugh as she came to stand in the center of the field, eyes hard as granite and glowing with evil intent centered on both the wolf in question and his prey. 

"Shoot her." Dean's voice was as cold as ice. His own weapon was in his hand but Sam's growling drew his attention.

"Dean!" Bobby shouted as an invisible force twisted the hand gun out of his grasp and slammed him into the ground. He rolled over and grabbed his rifle.

The witch sighed heavily. "As usual, I am very underwhelmed. Try something like that again and I'll let your _Sam_ take the bullets for me," she warned, a cold smile slowly curling her lips at the idea.

"Nakita, Sam, attack, now!" Dean called out, knowing Bobby would do the same. She'd have more trouble controlling all of them at once, at least in theory. Nakita barked and headed for her, but Sam just pawed the earth and took a step closer to him. Dean saw the men start to circle around and knew they had to move, now. Raising his rifle, he aimed at her and started to squeeze the trigger when Sam launched through the air and his teeth closed around Dean's forearm.

"God d... Sam!" If it weren't for the leather jacket, Dean knew his arm would be no good to him by now. "Off, Sam let go. Look at me, focus. It's Dean. You don't listen to that bitch, you listen to me. Sam--" He'd thought the wolf was going easy on him, but he was caught off guard when Sam wrenched his arm and brought him to the ground.

Her tinkling laughter irritated the hell out of Dean. Raising his uninjured arm to protect himself from Sam, Dean tried to squeeze off a round of bullets, aiming for the witch.  
"End him, Sam! End him NOW!" the witch shrieked.

Sam released Dean's arm and his yellow eyes tight and threatening, moved to his mate's jugular vein, focusing in on that one area as he snarled ferociously and his lips curled back revealing rows of sharp canine teeth and dripping jowls. There was a brief moment of clarity in the wolf's eyes as they snapped to Dean's as though begging forgiveness for a crime yet to be committed. However the look was suddenly gone just as quickly as it had appeared and a loud snapping snarl tore from Sam just before he went for Dean's throat intent on ripping it apart.

"Sam!" Dean didn't even get the word "no" out before he felt Sam at his throat. He punched at the wolf, his eyes widening when the finger he had on the gun in his hand started to squeeze the trigger. He started to shout, both from the pain of the teeth sinking into his flesh and as a warning to Sam. A completely useless warning. The gun sounded off three times. 

The mournful yelps would forever be emblazoned on Dean's mind because he was the cause of those sounds. Rolling the wolf away, he bent over him, though he could hear Bobby telling him to get a hold of himself. Resting one hand on Sam's warm, furry body and seeing in horror as the wolf's eyes dimmed and closed, a shout of denial welled up in the back of Dean's throat. Grabbing his rifle, he started to get up, he'd kill her, if it cost him his life, he'd kill her, and then he felt a heavy blow to his head and everything went black.

When he woke up, he found that his wrists were tied behind his back. Bobby was in the same condition, bleeding from the head and with his hands tied. He turned around and saw that the rope from their wrists extended to the back of a truck and that the witch one of her men were getting inside, the other two men jumped on the back of the truck. "Shit..." 

He turned again. "Sam?" His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. About ten feet away, he saw him. Sam, laying on his stomach in human form, rivulets of blood streaming down from his side gleaming under the moonlight. "Sam. Sam!" he shouted, trying to pull free. "Sam!"

There was that tinkling laughter, and then he was being forced to walk. Unlike Bobby, he didn't turn around. He walked and stumbled backwards, his eyes on Sam. He'd killed him. He'd talked Sam into coming out of hiding, into leaving that safe cabin of his, and brought him out into this world and then he'd fucking killed him. "Saaam!" Fighting the pull of the truck, he fell to the ground and was dragged. 

Dirt got into his mouth. His head hit a large tree root. He wasn't sure he cared, it was what he deserved. Sam... the one thing in his life that he cared for, that he couldn't lose... he'd just...

"Get up. Dean, get up Goddammit. You want them to win? Dean!" Bobby yelled. "Dean!"

Win. No, he wanted them to burn in hell. He wanted them to suffer. He wanted... he wanted them to bring Sam back.

Shouting out his pain, Dean struggled, his leg hitting a tree, finding ground and then hitting something again.

"Fight. Get up boy!"

And he did. He got up, because maybe that was Sam's only chance. Maybe. Bleeding and dirty, Dean stared at the truck ahead, focusing all his hate, all his fear, all his loss on it. They were done, he'd see to it, but not before they fucking brought Sam back.

The truck jerked to a halt outside the open gates of what looked like a compound fenced in with barbed wire. There was a large stone structure in the middle and the yard was littered with cages filled with wolves. Some of the wolves stood whining and whimpering while others cowered at the far ends of the cages as though they had been beaten into submission while others lay as though dead. The stench of death and blood permeated the air even outside the compound. 

The doors of the truck opened and one of the men climbed out and then the witch stepped out at the same time as the guys in the back jumped down and headed for the cages. The witch made her way to the back of the truck and walked over Dean's side, a smug smirk curling her blood red lips. 

"I was almost finished with _him_ anyway," she tossed, knowing that a name wasn't needed. "Did you notice what I did to him the last time he was here? Had he stayed, I would have pulled every tooth from his jaws," she sneered. "Know why he didn't heal well?" she grinned wider, a devilish gleam in her dark eyes. "Silver," she baldly stated. "I cut him with it and it was slowly... ever so slowly," she sing-songed as she leaned in, her lips near Dean's ear, "killing him," she whispered before drawing back with a cackle. "So you see, truly you put the old dog out of his misery," she ended, her eyes raking over Dean's face. 

"So tell me, what was he to you? Friend? Brother?" She mused before gasping in a soft breath as her eyes widened with amusement. "Oh my," she laughed, "Don't tell me _lover_ ," she snorted with a shake of her head. "Ah well, there's no accounting for taste is there?" She inquired with a chuckle.

"Lemme tell you something," Dean's chest heaved as he took deep breaths. When she moved closer so she could hear, he whispered clearly. "I'm gonna cut your heart out and feed it to you." Before she pulled away, he jerked his head back and butted her forehead with his as hard as he could. Head splitting pain had never been so satisfying. 

Verlaine reached up with one hand as she staggered backward and wiped at the blood that oozed from the wound on her brow. Her gaze lowered to her palm and her eyes widened with shock, her teeth clenching together in rage before she lifted eyes full of outrage and contempt, narrowing them at Dean. Her hand moved swiftly, striking him hard across the face, the blood on her palm smearing across his cheek. "You bastard!" She snarled, seething as her chest heaved. "Stoney, Brint, get this one inside!" She commanded, "NOW!" she barked out as she shoved past Dean and headed into the complex herself. "I don't care what you do with the old man, kill him, turn him into wolf chow, but bring the other one to ME!" She bellowed, her voice echoing off the interior walls of the stone building she'd entered. 

Dean's wrists were cut free but he felt the barrel of a rifle between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward. Turning to look at Bobby, who was also being cut loose, he exchanged looks with him. The instant Bobbly was free, Bobby dropped to his knees. The other bastard went to help him and Dean slowly turned around and also moved to help.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"He fell, I'm..." 

Dean and Bobby moved in unison. Bobby pulling the other man down and landing a right hook to his jaw, then struggling to take the weapon from him. Dean grabbed the rifle, twisting the barrel so that it was parallel to the ground, lifting it up and kneeing the man in the stomach, before sweeping his leg around and shoving him. The guy landed heaving on his back and Dean brought the butt of the rifle down firmly over the guy's head. "Payback's a bitch, like your boss." 

A second later, he helped Bobby knock the other guy out, and they pulled the two bodies behind some trees. Bobby grabbed the keys to the truck and pocketed them. "The smart thing would be to..."

"You go ahead," Dean said, his jaw throbbing. "I've got business that needs finishing." As he walked into the compound, he heard the heavy sigh, and then Bobby's footsteps following him in.

There were stone ruins, or what appeared like ruins. Gutted stone buildings. An alter with candles surrounding it. Dean and Bobby, pressed their backs against the wall as they walked around, getting a good look at the place. There were surprisingly few people, but near the alter, there were some women in robes. If they all had the same powers as the woman who seemed to be giving the orders, they were in even more trouble than they'd thought.

Every once in a while there were mournful yelps that reminded Dean of the sounds Sam made. He had to shut that out, had to concentrate, but it was hard when they saw wolves chained, being bled and tortured, and killed. Some were skinned alive. Once, Dean might not have cared what happened to werewolves, but now... now it hit too close to home.

"I need to get to her, the queen bee," Dean whispered.

"I need a new tooth," Bobby spit out some blood from getting his tooth broken, "but I don't see any fairies granting wishes. Let's get more help." Seeing Dean's stony expression, Bobby pulled a paper out from his jacket pocket. "These are the words to break the power of the bowl, but I can't be sure. They're not fully translated, I just have the phonetics and we don't even know if they're performing the same rituals as in ancient times."

Taking it, Dean made a face. "You should read it, your ancient Egyptian is much better than mine."

"It could be nothing. We'd be sitting--"

"Read it." Dean took a few steps away, then turned. "It doesn't work, you take the truck and you get out of here."

*  
Madame Verlaine sat before an alter in one of the private rooms, candles burning around her lighting the room with their warm glow. Her fingers dug into the wolf's pelt as she sliced into the creature's chest with the silver blade in her other hand, holding the animal so its blood drained into the small box on the alter.

"Oona lona es endurna," she began to chant, a slow wicked smile curling her lips even as the wolf she held trapped against her side whimpered and whined mournfully. 

"In another three nights, my pet I shall drain each one of you dry and when I partake of your blood all of the power in which you hold shall be mine and I, Madame Verlaine shall be a mere mortal no longer but a goddess," she purred. 

He might be a hardened hunter, but watching her from the window, Dean felt his stomach lurch at her cruelty. He was about to step around and get to the door when he heard footsteps and moved closer to the shadows.

The women in robes walked into the room, one of them holding the bowl. He heard them chanting, and then the witch took the bowl and cupping her hands, she scooped up blood from the metal box under the wolf she'd been carving, and poured it into the bowl. Three scoops exactly, and then she gestured for the women to take the bowl. The first one took the bowl and all three left the room. 

He watched the witch lick her fingers and the blood shot to his temples.

In a few steps, he was in the room, his own silver dagger in hand. He grabbed her hood, though the material fell off her head revealing gleaming black hair. He fisted his hand in the hood and her hair and brought the knife to her throat, but suddenly, he felt an invisible force preventing him from touching the blade to her.

The witch's lips curled into a smug smirk at Dean's inability to move, to touch her even with the murderous intent in his jade hued eyes. "So close and yet so far," she taunted wickedly with a deep throaty chuckle. Her gaze lowered from his face, focusing on his hand, watching as Dean's fingers uncurled despite his best efforts not to release the blade. The dagger fell to the stone floor with a loud clatter and the witch swiftly moved, releasing the half dead wolf and snatching up the knife. 

A horrified scream tore from her throat as the hilt of the blade burned her skin and caused her to drop the blade, shock-filled, outraged and pain-filled eyes lifted to Dean's face. "What have you done?" She demanded, tears glistening within the darkened depths of her eyes. Backing away, she stepped over the now human body of the wolf she'd bled. The dark haired boy's eyes were closed and his blood pooled under his naked body. She placed the body between herself and Dean as though it alone would protect her from whatever might befall her. 

"A taste of your own medicine. You're drinking shifter blood, what do you think that'll do for your silver tolerance?" He saw her gaze drop to her own silver dagger. "What's the hilt made of?" Before she could answer him, Dean lunged toward her again. The invisible force was there, pushing him back, turning the dagger in his hand toward himself.

The door shut behind him, and he heard Bobby's gravelly voice chanting words he'd never heard in his life. Gritting his teeth, he struggled harder against the force, a low sound of exertions coming from him as he managed to slowly turn the sharp end of the dagger back toward her. Dean stepped close and cursed when she slammed the back of her hand across his face, snapping his head back. Roaring with rage, he punched her in the face, knocking her against the wall. By the time she opened her eyes, he had one hand choking her, and the tip of the dagger cutting into her chest right over her heart. "You've got one chance. Once chance, bitch. You bring him back to me. Now."

Bobby lost his words. "Boy, you know better than--"

Verlaine's eyes widened imperceptibility. She arranged her expression to show vulnerability and resignation as she lowered her eyes subserviently and nodded. "Yes," she agreed breathlessly, "yes, I'll bring him back. You have a deal." 

Stepping slightly away, Dean was about to drag her away from the wall when she jerked, her eyes widening. "Wha..." Looking down, Dean saw his own silver dagger, the one she'd dropped to the ground, buried in her chest. The witch's features were frozen in shock for all time as the life quickly ebbed out of her. 

A soft grunt sounded near the floor as the wolf boy shoved with his legs up once more, giving all he had and slamming the hilt of the dagger into her, before lowering his legs to the ground. His bare feet smoked from where he'd used them to grip the dagger, but he didn't seem to care as they smacked the cold stone floor and his own eyes closed once more. 

"No!" The word was wrenched from Dean as her dead weight pulled against the hand he had at her throat, where he'd pinned her to the wall. "No, no, no..." Broken words, from a broken man, as he let the dead witch slip to the ground next to the dying boy who had a slight smile on his face. "No." 

Dean felt a weight on his shoulder and turned, meeting Bobby's gaze for a split second before turning his stinging eyes away.

"Look, I'm sorry about Sam, but that was a damned stupid idea. You know better than to--"

Dean pushed the hand off his shoulder and started to walk out. Turning for a moment at the door, when he looked back, his voice was as hard as granite. "Don't kill the wolves." He walked out, fully expecting Bobby would listen.

Outside the stone structure, two shots rang out. Then there was the sound of some shouts and the three women in robes ran past the room where Madam Verlaine met her death as mortal, not a goddess. 

* * *

Throwing the truck into 'park,' Dean jumped out and left the door open as he ran to where he'd been forced to leave Sam without even a chance to say good bye. He saw Nakita there, her paw on Sam's back, standing guard over his body. She looked about as lost as Dean felt, and that had Dean slowing down, tears coursing down his cheeks as it hit him again. Sam was gone. Dead by his own hand. 

Nakita's attention lifted from Sam to Dean as he approached and a low mournful whine tore from her throat as she dipped her head even as her tail wagged just slightly in greeting as though she was uncertain exactly what it was she should be feeling at the moment. She lowered her head and sniffed at Sam's neck as she pawed at his back as if in an attempt to stir him, though nothing happened. Her nails clawed the flesh of Sam's back as she seemed to grow more desperate in her vain attempt to wake the only true friend she'd ever had. A mournful howl broke from her throat as she lifted her attention once more to Dean as though she was demanding that he do something to fix this. 

"Wouldn't blame you if you wanted to tear my throat out," Dean said softly, dropping down next the both of them. He patted her back once, then without pushing her off, he rolled Sam over, into his arms, closing them around his _mate._ "So sorry, Sammy," he said on the verge of a sob, tightening his hold on Sam's motionless body. Sitting partly behind Sam, Dean slipped one hand up Sam's chest to cradle his jaw, and buried his own face in Sam's hair, breathing in his scent. "If I could turn back time, I would dump your ass back at the cabin. I'd... I wouldn't call for help," he said, thinking of how his cries and shouts had been what had attracted Sam's attention when they'd first met, when he'd been trapped by that creature and then saved by Sam. "Then you'd be safe. God damn it. God damn it, Sammy." 

He swayed back and forth, refusing to let Sam go. Wishing he'd done things different. Then he realized Sam's body wasn't cold. He was still warm. Not hot as a furnace, which was what Dean usually told him he felt like, but he wasn't deathly cold or rigid. "Sam?" He brought his hand higher, checking for breath. The sound of a car parking registered, and then Bobby was next to them, looking into his eyes.

"Don't know," Dean said, laying Sam down. He put his ear on Sam's chest, and got nothing. False hope hurt, Goddamit. "I'm not letting him go, I'm not," he said, holding Sam's nose and covering his mouth, and breathing for him, counting out the breaths. "Come on, breathe. Breathe Sam," he demanded, holding his nose again and administering CPR. Again, and again. "Come on. Come on!"

"Dean--"

"I am not giving up!" Dean snapped at Bobby.

"I'm not asking you to. I got the bowl back, it has some blood in it. It gave her shifter powers, maybe..." The hunter shrugged. "I don't know, but it can't hurt."

"Yeah, okay." He lifted Sam up slightly, then squeezed Sam's cheeks to keep his mouth open while Bobby poured blood from the bowl. "It has to work. It's gotta. Come on Sam. Heal."

"You know she's the one who did this to him, not you Dean. She made you shoot, so it was her finger on the trigger. And she's the one who sliced him with silver..."

Dean motioned for Bobby to leave him alone, but Bobby continued.

"It's why he ain't healing."

"I know all that, I just want him to... I need him back, Goddamit."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean stood over the bed with one hand on Sam's cheek while Nakita stood on the other side of the bed, her paw lightly resting on Sam's chest. Bobby's comment about them looking like some damned honor guard and freaking him out didn't move either of them. They each waited for a sign of life, but there was no heartbeat, no evidence of breathing, and all Dean had to cling to was that Sam's body was still warm, that was all he had. And now that he'd dug the bullets out of Sam's body and packed them with Sam's healing concoction, all he could do was wait. 

The next time Dean looked up the bedside clock said 3:28 A.M. and Bobby was asleep at the dining room table. Dean finally sat down on the bed, one hand still touching Sam's face. 

_Please God. If you're out there. One favor. Just one. Please._

Sam had no time to adjust to the abrupt change when his world went from stark black nothingness to vivid Technicolor. His eyes shot open, his back arching off the mattress. His lips parted in an audible gasp as he sucked air into lungs that hadn't moved in hours. The fingers of both his hands curled into the linens at his sides, crushing the soft material within white fisted hands in reaction to the pain that shot through his body, the sudden acute awareness of his surroundings, and the memories bombarding his brain all at once. "Dean!" He gasped hoarsely, his eyes wide with fright.

"Sam!" Dean leaned over Sam, searching his face. Dean's heart was racing so fast he thought it was getting ready to explode in his chest. "Talk to me, oh God... oh God, just say one thing," he begged. 

Sam's wide beseeching eyes met Dean's and his throat convulsed as he swallowed hard and slowly shook his head, "I'm sorry," he rasped softly. 

For a second, Dean thought Sam meant he was sorry but he couldn't stay. In that moment, he thought his heart had stopped. He couldn't stand much more of this.   
"Don't be. Just stay with me," he pleaded. "Don't you leave me, don't you stop breathing, I couldn't stand it," he said, kissing Sam's forehead lightly. 

Sam shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion, unsure what it was that his mate was going on about. His eyes tracked Dean's movements as his mate leaned over him and pressed his soft lips to his forehead. "No," Sam whispered hoarsely and pried one hand free of the bed sheets and lifted it, gripping the front of Dean's shirt desperately, "I'm sorry I... I hurt you..." he rasped. "Please forgive me," he implored. "Please..."

"You didn't hurt me, Sam, I shot you," Dean countered. "The reason you're flat on your back? Me." He could see the anxiety building in Sam, like he wasn't listening. "Okay, okay, I forgive you. It's forgotten," he said and put his hand over Sam's hand which was still gripping his shirt, slipping his own hand into Sam's and replacing the material. "We're good. I love you," he said and kissed him ever so lightly, afraid of hurting him.

Sam swallowed hard and nodded though he didn't feel any better. His chest continued to rise and fall heavily with his distressed breaths as tears stung his eyes. He knew, remembered why it was that Dean had shot him; he could still feel the way his teeth had sank into Dean's skin, still taste his mate's blood in his mouth. "I love you too," he murmured choking back a sob. "I'm so sorry..." he rasped, his voice a whisper, soft and broken.

"Sam, listen, I get how you feel. I thought I... I'd fucking offed you. I... But I'm so happy right now, nothing else matters. No, that's not true. Something matters, you, getting better. Then you and me at the beach and no case to work, nothing. We're gonna make it happen, promise," Dean insisted. He wished he had the words to make Sam let it go, to make him feel better. Sam's smile, his laughter, it was infectious, but damn... so was his sadness. "Happy thoughts, Sam. Happy thoughts," he practically ordered gruffly as he got up to get some water.

As he walked across the room and picked his way around Bobby and all the crap still on the floor, he felt Sam's eyes on him. "Happy thoughts," he repeated, reaching inside the fridge and getting a plastic bottle. 

Sam's eyes closed tight once Dean was out of his sight. He didn't understand how Dean could be so blasé' about all this or how it was that he had simply forgiven the unforgiveable. Tears fell from the corners of Sam's eyes to slip silently down the sides of his face and into his hairline at his temples. He would never forgive himself for what he had done to Dean, what he had done to the man who he claimed to love. He wished now that Dean had killed him, it was nothing more than what he deserved. 

When Dean got back to the bed, Nakita was whining and licking Sam's hand. Seeing the tears tracking down Sam's face, Dean brushed the tears aside with his thumb, then ran the pad of his thumb softly over Sam's lips. "Anything that happened out there is _her_ , not you. Let it go Sam, don't let it eat you up inside, please," he reiterated. Giving a sniff, he put his arm under Sam's back and helped him up a little, "Drink, it'll help."

Sam turned his head away from Dean and pressed his lips tightly together stubbornly. When Dean only continued to be kinder to him than a monster such as himself deserved, Sam shoved at Dean then pushed himself back as far as he could against the head of the bed in an attempt to get away from Dean's caring touches. "Stop it!" He spat, "Just stop it, alright!? Stop being so nice to me!" He reached for Nakita, curling his fists in her hair as he tugged her forward by the front of her neck, the rough gesture eliciting a yelp from the dog. "You were supposed to protect him!" He roared at the canine, "Where were you!?" He demanded, shaking the animal.

"Sam!" Dean scolded. It was the first time Dean had ever seen Sam be rough with Nakita, "Let her go," he commanded. Dean gripped Sam's wrist until Sam let the animal go. Even after that, Nakita stayed on the bed, merely laying down at the foot of the mattress, her ears flat against her head. 

Slowly, Dean released his grip on Sam. "That's enough, Sam, it's over. We won, the witch lost and that's it. You're alive, I'm alive."

"Me too, and awake, dammit," Bobby's cranky voice piped up from across the room.

"Now rest. I'll be over there by Bobby," Dean offered, though what he really wanted to do was stay as close as possible to Sam. The thing of it was, he could see his presence was agitating Sam, and he didn't want that. 

Sam grit his teeth and lifted his hands to his hair, pulling at it in handfuls as he allowed his head to thunk back against the headboard carelessly and squeezed his eyes closed and cried out against his clenched teeth. "Kill me!" He commanded abruptly as his eyes snapped open, his gaze intent on Dean as his mate started to rise.

"I mean it," Sam insisted as he sat up and lowered his hands from his hair, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Dean's shirt. "If you don't do it, I will," he threatened.

"Bobby, I think that blood must have done something to him. He's not thinking straight." Putting his hand across Sam's forehead, he found it was warm, yeah, but not so hot that it worried him. He looked down at the hand still clenched around his shirt, and back at Sam. "I have a better idea," Dean offered. "If you're strong enough to grab me like that," he slowly got on top of Sam, using his weight to keep Sam on the bed.

A disgusted sound came from Bobby, who got up and left the room, muttering about how it would be easier to get some sleep in the truck.

"Kiss me," Dean demanded, in the exact same tone Sam had used when he made his crazy request to kill him. "I mean Sam, kiss me," he said, his voice lowering an octave as he slowly slanted his mouth across Sam's. 

Sam's eyes squeezed closed when Dean's lips crushed against his and his heart ached but somehow he found the strength to push against Dean. "Stop it," he ground out through his teeth as he struggled to keep his lips pressed tight together until he'd finally wretched his lips away from Dean's. "What's the matter with you!?" He demanded incredulously. 

"With me?" Dean wiped his own mouth, then rolled off Sam, pushing Nakita in the process. He laid flat on his back, and turned his face toward Sam. "I'd rather kiss you than kill you. So shoot me." He wasn't sure whether to be hurt or angry or worried. Maybe he was all three. "Look. Let's both get some sleep and then we'll talk in the morning. Alright?"

Sam stared at Dean as though he'd just lost his mind. He slowly shook his head as he searched Dean's face and rolled onto his side to face Dean. "You don't get it do you?" He inquired in disbelief.

"Get what?"

"I bit you," he said, his eyes searching Dean's for some sign that he understood.

"You didn't mean to--" Dean sat up suddenly, the blood draining from his face. He could barely breathe as the significance of Sam's words sank in. His stomach churned, the relief he'd felt, the elation, all of it gone in the blink of an eye. "Bite," he finally ended, his hand moving to the bruised side of his neck. He took a couple deep breaths, not looking at Sam, not looking at anything, just trying to deal with it. 

Sam sat up as abruptly as Dean and watched while his mate dealt with the reality of what he'd done to him. How, with one wrong move, in the blink of an eye, he'd turned Dean into a monster. He slowly nodded at the single word that fell numbly from Dean's lips. "Yes," Sam confirmed softly. "I bit you... and I drew blood..." he clarified. "I turned you into... into what I am," he concluded in a hoarse whisper. "I am so very sorry, Dean..."

Dean didn't answer. Couldn't. He was going to be one of the things he killed. It didn't make the slightest bit of difference that he'd made an exception for Sam. That he'd learned that not every supernatural creature was evil. Right now, all he knew was that he'd just lost everything that he was. Human. Dean licked his lips and twisted his body around, setting his feet down on the floor. "Fuck..."

As much as Sam didn't blame Dean for hating him, he couldn't deny the white hot pain that lanced through his heart at the knowledge that he'd lost him. He'd done this, it was his own fault. He had no one and nothing to blame but himself. He couldn't even find it in himself to blame a dark haired witch, not when he had known the dangers of being i a relationship with a human and hadn't chased Dean away long before. No, instead he had pushed the envelope and dared to love, of all things, not just a human, but a hunter. He closed his eyes and allowed tears to silently slide down his cheeks unchecked as he mourned the loss of the life, the love that he had dared to try to possess. 

Dean got up and slowly headed for the bathroom, pulling the door shut and locking it. Acid churned in his stomach. He looked in the mirror, then put his hand on it, staring at himself. What was he going to do? Just what the hell was he going to do? A little over a year ago, the answer would have been simple. He'd put a bullet right through his own head. Now. It was complicated.

Sucking his breath in, he twisted around and leaned over the toilet bowl, his hand gripping the cold porcelain toilet tank. A low sound broke from him as he tried to throw up, but even that went wrong. He was dry heaving and it fucking hurt. Slowly, he sank to his knees. 

Sam laid there a long moment listening to the sounds inside the motel room and both hating and glad for his canine hearing when he heard Dean gagging in the bathroom. Sniffling, he threw his legs off the side of the bed and climbed to his feet, making his way back to the bathroom. The puny lock on the door didn't hold up at all to Sam's wolf strength and crumbled when he pushed against it, forcing his way into the bathroom. He crossed the distance between himself and Dean and leaned down, gripping his mate under his arms, dragging Dean to his feet whether he liked it or not. 

"Dean, stop it," Sam commanded, "you're not gonna make yourself puke unless you go outside and eat a ton of grass," he spat. "And until your first change I'm still stronger than you, so stop fighting me!" 

Sheer anger, explainable, maybe undeserved, propelled Dean to fight back until he slammed Sam up against the wall, holding him by his shoulders and shaking him roughly, just the way Sam had shaken Nakita. Just the way he wouldn't have dared to if he'd been thinking clearly, not when he knew how close to death Sam had been. "You want to do something for me?" He watched Sam's nostrils flare. "You put a bullet through my head." 

Sam slowly shook his head, "No," he replied softly. He leaned in as far as he could and crushed his lips to Dean's, licking his way into his mate's mouth as desperate whimpers tore from deep in his throat. 

"Mmph..." Dean struggled to get away, then pushed hard and slammed his fist into Sam's face, knocking him against the flimsy door which tore off its hinges and allowed Sam to fall back into the room. "You won't do it, I know someone else who will," he said, a muscle pulsing along his clenched jaw. He saw the forlorn look in Sam's eyes, and it too hurt. He shook his head. "I can't Sam. I can't do this. I just... I can't."

Sam scrambled to his feet, his sides heaving with his heavy breaths. "Then get whoever it is to do the same for me," he retorted. "I did this to you. Me," he rasped and shook his head. "And I can't live with the knowledge. So, if you can't live this way... if you won't even try," he swallowed hard and gave a nod, "Then when you set up your death, you set up mine too. If you don't then..." he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He knew ways of killing himself. Painful, horrible ways that he had learned over the years when he was alone in his cabin. Feeding himself silver day by day and letting it slowly eat him from the inside out. He could do it. 

"It's not the same thing." There was a long silence. Dean slammed his hand against the door frame and continued to stare at Sam. "You've got someplace to go. You and Nakita. A life," he nodded, his gut twisting at the ramifications of Sam's words. "I don't want you to... dammit, Sam." His eyes stung, and it wasn't over ending his own life. It was the thought of Sam leaving this world. 

"Geography!?" Sam roared incredulously. "You're going to die on me due to geography!?" He spat and charged at Dean, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him back against the wall inside the bathroom. "YOU'RE WRONG!" He shouted and shook Dean though half way through it he struggled to be more gentle, "You're wrong!" He repeated, "Without you, I have no life. You, you are my life... mine and Nakita's. We're family, Dean... don't you see that? We're family." He spat roughly, breaths panting heavily.

He wanted to fight Sam, wanted to push him away, to walk out that door and get Bobby to do it, or sit in his car until he got up the courage to do it. And yet, Sam's words, they tugged at him. They were the unvarnished truth. 

Dropping his hands, Dean swallowed hard. "My father would have put a bullet through my head. He was family," he whispered, the fight gone out of him the moment he recalled how he'd felt with Sam laying there like he was dead. 

"Then he was a damn fool," Sam scoffed gently, searching Dean's face. "Because no one in this family is putting a bullet through anyone's head," he said with a sniffle as he shook his head.   
Dean struggled with it, but deep down, he wanted what Sam was offering, what he'd meant to him all this time. A family. He wanted that, he wanted the time they'd promised each other at the beach. He wasn't sure what the future would bring, and he knew it could be bad, but it didn't stop him from yearning. "Alright. Alright Sam, no bullets," he said, cupping the back of Sam's neck and leaning his forehead against Sam's. "I just... you know, I'm probably not gonna turn out to be some gentle healer. I've seen so much shit. Done so much shit. I don't want to hurt anyone. If when I turn... If I... If I can't control it, then you have got to promise me, you'll do something. Cage me, kill me, whatever. I don't want to be a monster."

Sam's lips curled into a soft tentative smile when Dean agreed to no bullets and reached out, touching him, holding him. He gave a teary snorted chuckle at Dean's words, "And you think I hadn't?" He inquired incredulously with a lift of his brows. "Remember I was your number one competition as a hunter, or so you thought," he teased, now knowing about the one sided competition. "I know, I know it isn't gonna be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is," he said softly. He slowly shook his head, "You're not gonna hurt anyone, I know it. Dean..." he sighed. "The curse, it only changes your appearance, it doesn't change who you are on the inside. So, yeah, if you're an asshole, you're gonna be an asshole werewolf, but if you're a wonderful, beautiful person, you're gonna be a wonderful, beautiful werewolf," he explained. 

"You're telling me I'm wonderful and beautiful? Really?" Dean tried to be snarky, but his voice broke. He closed his arms around Sam and held him tight. He didn't know when or how it happened, but he was crying softly. He wasn't sure why. Was it because he would be different? Was it because he didn't believe? Or because he'd just put Sam through hell? Or maybe, maybe the dream Sam just wove for him might be something he wanted and never knew.   
Slowly, he felt himself get pulled toward the bed. They climbed inside, never completely parting, and then hung on to each other. When he kissed Sam, he tasted salty tears. They weren't only his own, he knew that much. He felt Sam shaking a little, or maybe it was himself, now he wasn't sure. "Sam?" He lifted his head and looked into his eyes. "Remember that woman? The one at the library who read your palm? She said... I wanted to punch her for it, but she said you would find a love that would 'complete you.' Maybe..." Dean wasn't even sure where he was going with this.

Sam's lips curved into a tender adoring smile as he searched Dean's face and slowly shook his head, "You've always completed me, you beautiful wonderful dumbass."

"You say the sweetest things." His gaze dropped to Sam's mouth, then he looked back up. "Alright. We're gonna try this. We're gonna make it. You and me." He felt something press on his back and rolled his eyes. "And Nakita," he said with a resigned sigh. 

Sam chuckled and nodded, pulling Dean in closer as Nakita barked behind them. 

* * * 

Sam sat at the small table by the window, one of the lanterns lit in the living room area of the small cabin, his eyes tracking Dean as he watched his mate pace. "Dean, you might as well sit down before you wear yourself out," Sam suggested. "Or bore a hole into the floor," he muttered half under his breath. 

"Is that an order?" Dean glared at Sam. "If you think you're going fucking alpha on me now... don't."

"Oh I dunno, you're the one who seems slightly in heat," Sam muttered and turned his head, looking out the window at the full moon as it slowly rose in the sky. 

"Ha ha, funny." It wasn't a good time for jokes, but Dean figured jokes might be better than having to deal with a moody Sam, which was often the case around the full moon. It was bad enough that he was trying to deal with his own emotions and uncertainties. His fear. He would choke on the word before he admitted to it, but he was afraid.

Sam looked back at Dean and watched as his mate continued to look a lot like one of the caged wolves he'd seen not all that long ago. He shook the thought from his head as he struggled to retain some of his sense of humor and ability to not be a total bitch himself as the moon lifted higher in the sky. 

"Dean, come here," Sam offered, reaching a hand out and sliding his chair away from the table, intent on his mate coming and taking a seat on his lap. "Now _you_ don't go all alpha male on me and come sit here," he added at the disgruntled look Dean shot him.   
"I'm about to be twisted around like some pretzel. I'm not as flexible as you. I..." Relenting, Dean walked over and did exactly as Sam asked, sat on his lap and leaned back. Sam's chest felt warm against his back. He could feel his strong, steady heart beats, so much slower than his own at the moment. Even his palms were sweating. Rubbing them on his jeans, he looked out the window at the moon. He'd been avoiding looking out earlier, as if not seeing the moon would do a damned thing for him. "Don't mind me, I'm nervous."

"I know," Sam whispered as he dipped his head and kissed along the side of Dean's neck, across the light scar that marred the otherwise flawless skin, the scar he had made. He wrapped his arms around Dean, one hand sliding up and down over his mate's chest. 

"You're gonna be a beautiful wolf," Sam murmured softly against his mate's skin. He allowed his short blunt nails to claw gently across Dean's chest, "Gonna be so wonderful... Are ya gonna let me have you like that?" He rasped, hot breath fanning against Dean's neck, "As a wolf..." 

Dean's heart kicked up a notch. "I..." He hadn't though that far, not really. He'd thought about how he could keep up with Sam, that they could run, and maybe play like Sam did with other wolves or dogs. Not that he'd ever be as distracted by every little movement, a bird, anything that fluttered, the way wolf Sam could be. But as for sex? He suddenly chuckled, "probably. I mean, have I ever said no to sex?" He turned his head and claimed a kiss, putting his hand over Sam's and threading his fingers through Sam's fingers. "But you'll have to catch me first."

A possessive snarl sounded from deep in Sam's throat as he smiled adoringly at Dean. Suddenly his smile was wiped away as the pull of the moon hit him hard and his hand entwined with Dean's tightened its hold, knowing that his mate felt it too. His eyes met Dean's and he shook his head. "Don't be afraid, it's okay, just let it happen," he instructed gently. He remembered the first time he had changed and how he'd had no one here to teach him, to tell him not to fight it. Fighting it had made it hurt so much more than when he didn't, it'd taken him months before he had learned that. 

"My clothes," Dean said, a little of his panic in his voice. 

Sam's hands slid down Dean's chest to the hem of his tee and he slowly started to pull it up, "It's okay, you have some time," he soothed. "And if not, they're only clothes." 

"I know. I'm being stupid." And yet he was peeling his shirt off and acting like getting rid of his clothes was the most important thing. Really, it gave him something to concentrate on. He messed with the button of his jeans, his hands shaking so he had trouble with it. "Dammit."

"Dean, relax," Sam instructed gently and reached for the fastenings of his mate's jeans, deftly unfastening the button and lowering the zipper. He eased Dean to his feet as he pulled to his own and removed his own tee, tossing it down onto the table. 

"Here, you undress me, I'll undress you," Sam suggested, though deep down he knew there wasn't time, he'd begin shifting long before Dean was able to get him out of his jeans. Sam pulled Dean's jeans down his hips, "Quick kick off your boots and step out of them," he directed calmly with an encouraging nod. 

Toeing off his boots, Dean bent down to push his jeans the rest of the way down when his body was suddenly wracked with pain. His guttural shout was accompanied by a sudden weakness in his knees. He gripped Sam's shoulder, seeking Sam's eyes as another wave of pain struck him. He couldn't say a single word, he simply fell to the ground and rolled onto his back, arching up suddenly as his bones started to shift and break. "Nghhh hellll," he rolled over onto his stomach, sure he was going to retch blood.

As more bones shifted, he felt his fingers break, then lengthen. The shout that was drawn from him was inhuman, even to his own ears. He was horrified and scared shitless until he felt Sam's hand press lightly on his back. Heard him whisper incomprehensible, but soothing words.

Sam dipped his head, nuzzling against Dean's ear even as his own bones broke and shifted though, no matter how much it hurt, he fought it off this time for Dean. Dean needed him to stay with him, to talk to him and he couldn't do that with a mouth full of canine teeth so as much as it tore at his insides and had his body trembling and breaking out in a sweat, Sam fought and whispered soothing words of encouragement to his love. 

 

As Dean's jaw re-aligned and fangs exploded into his mouth, Dean was sure something had gone wrong. Every bone in his body had broken, every artery ripped open. He would be drowning in a pool of his own blood. He drew a deep breath and when he blew it out, a whine erupted from the back of his throat. It was over. 

No longer able to hold back, a deep anguished cry tore from Sam's throat and his body shifted quickly, making up for lost time, the process brutal and excruciating. He lifted his head and looked into Dean's face, his once hazel eyes now a glowing shade of yellow met and clashed with Dean's own once jade green eyes that were now glacier blue. 

Dean went completely still, staring at Sam. Seeing him in his shiny black fur, his brilliant eyes contrasting sharply with the rest of his body, it was like seeing Sam for the first time. He was the wolf, and yet he was so much more. [ _Handsome._ ] He shuddered at the sound that came from him, unsure whether Sam or anyone else would understand what he said. Then he stood up on all fours and nudged Sam. Something wild was calling to him. Something in his gut, pulling at him. He wanted to run, wanted to race the moon. Wanted to race Sam to the end of the world. 

Sam shook, his black coat and muscles rippling with the movement before he stretched and stepped closer to Dean, nudging him with his head. [ _Not so bad yourself there... 'Whitey',_ ] Sam teased, the sound coming out like a drawn out throaty whine. 

[ _Whitey? That's not a cool name. I'm... Knightrider_ ] Dean decided, nudging Sam back. [ _Catch me._ ] Leaping over Sam's long body, Dean headed for the door that was propped open, jumped over the two stairs to the yard, then took off into the woods, lengthening his strides as he grew more confident that he wouldn't bang into a tree or so something stupid like that.

[ _Knightrider?_ ] Sam questioned as he watched Dean head for the door. [ _Yeah, the only Knight you’re gonna be ridin' is this black one if you're lucky when I catch your snow white ass,_ ] Sam smack talked as he took off after Dean, a growled snarl tearing from his throat. 

Sam raced through the night after his mate, allowing Dean to take the lead more often than not just so that his mate could get a better feel for what it was like in this skin, as this creature. They ran, zigzagging in and out between bushes and trees through the woods and jumped across narrow streams, all of it by the light of the full moon.

The smells of the forest. The colors, even in in the dark. The shadows created by the moonlight dancing over the streams or gleaming off his mate's yellow eyes, fascinated... entranced Dean. Then there was this energy bundled up inside him, making him want to go faster and leap higher. He had no idea how long he ran, but he knew that each time Sam nipped at his heels, it spurred him on, like it was some sort of game. 

Running full circle around a tree, he crouched with his forearms in front of him, waiting for Sam to show. That's when he finally got it. The fur on his arms were pure white. Weird. He'd thought his fur would be the same color as the hair on his head. 

The instant Sam was in front of him, Dean dodged him and crouched again, then dodged again. [ _Is my ass really white? Never mind._ ] Out loud, even in wolf tongue, it sounded like a stupid question. 

Sam lifted a paw and thunked it down on the ground hard as if covering a snicker but then wolves didn't snicker. [ _Normally I don't go around checking out other wolves' asses, but yours I'll make an exception for if you really want to know, though I'm willing to bet that yes, it is._ ]

He trotted forward and lifted a paw, placing it against Dean's shoulder as he sat down in front of his mate, [ _I told ya you would be beautiful._ ] 

[ _You flirting, Sammy?_ ] Dean made a face, or tried. [ _Trying to leer. Is it working?_ ] 

[ _Not really, you just look kinda like you have worms._ ] Sam replied with a whine. 

Dean jumped forward and nipped Sam's ear, maybe a little harder than he'd wanted, from the way Sam yelped. [ _Sorry,_ ] he said, sitting back. He tried leering again. [ _How about now? Huh? Is it working for you?_ ]

Sam hung his head, looking up at Dean from under what would be brows were he not a wolf. [ _Seriously, dude, worm city. It makes me wanna lick your ass._ ] he replied. 

Dean rocked back so hard, he fell, then scrambled back up onto all fours. [ _You mean... literally?_ ] Leering one more time, he took off, jumping over a bush, and heading around a tree. From where he was standing, it was a win/win situation! 

Sam took off after Dean, nipping at his rear end when he got too close. [ _Aw, man come on, lemme help ya out!_ ] Sam called after him with a loud howling yip.

* * * 

The room was dark, but a stream of light entering from the window told Dean it was morning. He shifted, smiling against Sam's warm stomach as he recalled everything they'd been up to. The shifting had been a bitch, but everything else... he couldn't say it had been anything but pure fun. It was like being on adrenalin and in constant motion. There were some personality changes too cause Dean couldn't say he was as 'playful' in human form. There were other things too. Emotions that were lurking on the surface and harder to control. Mood swings. He hadn't experienced too much of that, but there'd been a couple flashes of jealousy over nothing. Just knowing how Sam acted under the full moon, he knew there were dangers they'd have to watch for. They'd talked about holing up for a couple nights each lunar cycle, just to be on the safe side. Until they were sure that Dean could control himself at least as well as Sam did. 

Rolling his head, Dean kissed Sam's firm stomach. God he was lucky. He'd had Sam to help him through this, to show him the ropes, to teach him he could control himself. They'd eaten real well before the shift. Little things like that might make the difference between becoming a violent werewolf and one who could live in human society. 

Feeling Sam's hand move down, over his head, and run through his hair, Dean smiled again. "Want something?" he asked, lifting his head and leering. "Just to be clear, this is my 'want me to lick your popsicle stick' expression." 

Sam cracked open his eyes and looked down his chest at Dean, a wide grin curling his lips. "Really? See now I'm getting constipated human," he teased, barely stifling the chuckle that worked its way out in response to the look Dean shot him. 

"Guess I'll have to keep trying. That or find something else to lick." Very deliberately, Dean stuck his tongue out and licked his way up the groove just next to Sam's pelvis. "This will do," he said, ghosting his mouth across to Sam's naval and licking again, before looking up to meet his eyes. 

Sam's breath hitched and caught in his throat at the feel of Dean's warm wet tongue sliding along his skin and so close to areas that were quickly taking notice of what he was doing. He lifted his head marginally up off the pillow, staring down at his lover, watching as Dean continued to lick across his flesh, the muscles of his stomach clenching under the sensations created by his mate's tongue.

Sam allowed his head to fall back against the pillows once more though his gaze remained focused on Dean. His breaths panted softly out from between parted lips as his eyes tracked his mate's movements and the fingers of his hand in Dean's soft short hair tightened its grip slightly, digits burying themselves deeper within the silken strands. He nodded adamantly to his mate when Dean's eyes met his own and he swallowed hard, tongue darting out to lick quickly across his lips. "Yeah," he agreed softly, "yeah, that's..." he nodded again, "Don't stop."

Putting his hands flat on the mattress on either side of Sam's body, Dean crawled up a little, dipping his head down to kiss Sam's lower lip, then moving slowly down his body. He nuzzled Sam's throat, nipping his flesh and feeling his own blood rush through his veins in response to Sam's shudder. He worked his way lower, laving his tongue over Sam's nipple until it tightened into a bud. 

Lifting his head again, Dean admired his handiwork and his mate, his chiseled chest and the hard planes of his stomach, tense and waiting for more. "Three things. You're fucking beautiful. You're mine. And I'm glad I stuck around." Seeing a certain look enter Sam's eyes, he cocked his head. "Uh uh, end of chic flick moment."

Sam's eyes had fluttered closed with the first kiss that Dean planted against his lips and remained that way until his mate spoke, he then gazed up into his lover's eyes, his own full of love. His lips curved into a smile, even if they trembled a little at the end of Dean's words, "That's not exactly fair," he whispered hoarsely and blinked away the sting of tears from his eyes. He reached up, wrapping one arm around Dean's body and, with his free hand, he cupped the nape of his Dean's neck, fingertips toying with the short fine hairs there while Sam pressed his lips together and forced himself not to continued said 'chick-flick' moment. He drew in a deep fortifying breath and exhaled offering Dean another smile before quickly turning them over with a growl. He pinned his mate beneath him, arms pulling out from around Dean as they rolled, reaching instead for his lover's hands, holding them within his own against the mattress.

"Actually," Sam began, "you're the one who is beautiful," he corrected and dipped his head, licking at the side of Dean's neck with the point of his tongue. "All thick furry white with those blue eyes," he whispered hotly against the sensitive skin while he continued to tease the tender flesh with his tongue and mouth, nip-kissing against the skin after his tongue had lavished attention on the area.

When Sam lifted his head, his own hazel eyes were tinged with a glowing yellow in their depths as he stared down into Dean's eyes for a moment while he scooted his body backward slightly down his mate's. "And you are the one who _belongs_ to me," he informed Dean, allowing his smug smirk to remind Dean of his alpha status though he didn't rub it in. He dipped his head and nipped gently at his mate's nipple before licking around the abused flesh and sucking it into his mouth with a possessive snarl.

Lifting his head, he allowed Dean's nipple to slip free from his lips with a resounding wet smack and grinned up at him for a long moment before the look slowly slid from his face. "And yeah," he agreed softly, "I'm glad that you stuck around too," he murmured, eyes lowering almost sadly for a moment before he lifted them once more to Dean's face. "It would have been really hard keeping you tied to the bed through the change if you hadn't come to your senses. As if I was gonna let you kill yourself," he huffed. 

Dean's skin felt electrified, everywhere Sam touched him. The gentle kisses and licks, interspersed with sudden nips and aggressive talk, kept Dean on edge. "This isn't exactly fair either. I can't fight your chic flick moment, when you're..." Closing his hands around Sam's, Dean lifted up off the mattress, his muscles straining to hold him up as he kissed Sam, at first claiming him fiercely, but then gentling his movements and slowly lowering back down with Sam following. "I was talking shit." Angling his mouth in the other direction, he kissed Sam again. "Could never leave you. Never," he said insistently, rolling them over once again. 

"Now. Where was I?" Dean asked, sitting back and straddling Sam's thighs as he dragged one finger down his chest, drawing zig zags and moving lower and lower, his gaze dropping to confirm he was getting Sam nice and hard. 

Sam's focus settled on his mate's full ripe lips, spit damp and swollen from their kisses. A deep growled groan tumbled from Sam's throat as Dean's finger trailed downward along his chest and further along his stomach. His dick twitched and his hips cantered upward as if on their own accord in response. "I think," Sam rasped as he reached for Dean's hips and tugged at them in an attempt to pull his mate onto his cock, "I think you were about to ride me," he suggested thickly. 

Dean allowed Sam to pull him, but pressing his thighs into Sam's sides, he stopped the forward slide of his body, biting his lip when his cock rubbed against Sam's. Gripping Sam's cock with one hand, and his own with the other, he locked gazes with his mate and started to slide his hands up and down, swaying back and forth and allowing soft, low sounds to escape him. In only a few strokes, his eyes glazed over. He brought their cocks together and squeezed and stroked, groaning as he rubbed his finger over the bead of precum at Sam's tip. "Want you, want you inside me," he said, jerking their cocks faster.

Sam's eyes squeezed tightly closed as Dean began to stroke, the sounds that fell from his mate's lips only serving to increase his own lust and desire. His hips rolled, moving in time with Dean's fisted hand stroking along his length and his head pressed back into the pillow before rolling to the side with a low and drawn out wanton moan. His fingertips dug roughly into the tender flesh of Dean's hips and his back arched on a low guttural groan. "Yes," he panted softly as he pried his eyes open, "want you..."

The rough need in Sam's voice did things to Dean's insides, tying him up in all sorts of knots. Any thoughts of delay fell by the wayside as lust swept through Dean. Quickly, and efficiently, he spread the precum now drizzling from their cocks, using it to cover every inch of Sam's dick until it was slick. Raising up on his knees, he leaned forward, bracing his weight on one hand as he aligned Sam's swollen cock and started to lower himself down over it.

Dean's stomach clenched, a soft cry breaking from him at the sharp pain from being breached. Panting lightly, he pressed down again, taking Sam deeper inside him, clenching his muscles around Sam. He rocked back one more time and cried out, white light flashing behind his eyelids as his ass settled down over Sam's hips. Neither one of the moved or spoke. Dean just clenched and squeezed his muscles around Sam, long slow holds at first, and then increasing in speed. He could hear Sam's breaths grow harsher, see his nostrils flaring. Yet he teased him a little more, pushed him, pushed himself.   
Sam's hands immediately started to lift from the bed to hold onto Dean when he cried out as he lowered himself down onto his throbbing dick but he stopped himself knowing that if he got too touchy-feely about it all Dean would read him the riot act and tell him that he wasn't a chick. His fingers curled into fists as he lowered his hands back down to the bed. His breaths heaved as he stared lustily up at Dean, his nostrils flaring with each breath as he struggled to remain still and not reach for Dean, not move his hips, not release the growled cry of tortured pleasure that welled up at the back of his throat. His head turned to the side in jerky pleasure-pained movements, his lips parting on a silently gasped breath of want and need, his cock pulsing and throbbing where it was lodge deep within his mate's tight ass. He squeezed his eyes closed and the fingers of his hands at his sides uncurled marginally to walk handfuls of linens into his hands which curled into white knuckled fists. 

"Dean," he ground out hoarsely, "please..."

The tortured request lanced straight through Dean, filling him with a fierce need for his mate. Pressing his hands flat on Sam's stomach, he pushed lightly to raise himself up, then allowed himself to drop back down. "Anything. Anything you need," he whispered in his raspy voice, moving slowly, lifting and dropping, loving how Sam's muscles flexed and bunched under his hands. He leaned forward and started to ride Sam, faster and harder, still pushing against his stomach to lift up. Strong. His lover was so damned strong. "Touch me." 

Sam's breaths seemed to be punched from his throat with each thrust of his hips as Dean began to move on him. He struggled to keep his movements slow and measured, his stomach muscles clenching and rippling under his mate's hands with each movement. Dean's husky request sent heated blood soaring through his veins to pool low in his gut, his cock pulsing within the tight glove of his lover's ass. He forced his hands to release their hold on the sheets and lifted them, sliding them up Dean's sides and back down, one hand moving forward, wrapping around his mate's dick, stroking him in time with the movement of their hips. Lifting his head and upper back up off the bed slightly, he stretched his other arm up, cupping the back of Dean's neck, gently tugging him down. He crushed his lips across his mate's, kissing him fiercely. 

Dean's cock hardened. With each movement of his hips, he managed to thrust into Sam's large hand, groaning against Sam's mouth as he was kissed breathless. Slowly, but surely, they were working each other up. Dean moved his hands to Sam's shoulders, gripping them, using them to pull himself closer, each time he lifted and then came down over Sam. When he moved just right, Sam's cock rubbed against his prostate, sending electric waves of pleasure through him. Moaning again, Dean took control of the kiss, sliding his tongue into Sam's mouth and claiming every corner. They were so good together, so good before, and so much better now that they were the same. "Love you." He declared, thickly, "Friend. Lover. Mate," he said, punctuating his declarations with sharp movements of his hips, taking Sam as deep as he could.

Sam gasped and groaned, growls and soft grunted snarls tearing from deep in his throat with each of their joined movements. His hand continued to move, stroking with long slow pulls along Dean's length. His free hand dropped from the nape of Dean's neck and fell limply to the bed mattress as he gulped in air, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head with each sharp thrust of his mate's hips. His lips parted and moved as if speaking but no sound came out as his head rolled back and forth on the pillow. 

Sucking on Sam's earlobe, Dean allowed it to drop from his lips and whispered hotly in his ear. "It's time. Time to catch me. Time to fuck me. Like last night." Kissing Sam hard, Dean sat up, rocking back and forth. 

Sam groaned at the mention of how they'd fucked last night in wolf form after they'd run for miles and he'd wound up tackling Dean. It hadn't taken long before one thing lead to another and they were doing it under the light of the full moon. He didn't think that claiming one's mate or doing it 'doggie style' would ever mean quite the same things again, to either one of them.

Squeezing his inner muscles around Sam, Dean gave a low moan, throwing his head back and holding still for a moment. Then he lifted up, almost pulling off Sam's cock, then sitting back down. "Ngh..." Curling his hand around Sam's, he started forced him to stroke his cock faster, matching his own movements to Sam's hand. He moved harder, faster, a strange whimper escaping him as the pressure built low in his stomach, winding tighter and tighter until he thought he couldn't stand it. "Now... now baby, now!" he said, shouting "Sam!" as he came hard, jets of hot cum streaming between their fingers and splattering Sam's belly. 

Sam's eyes slid open and he gazed through desire-filled eyes up at his lover, panting and writhing under his mate as Dean's inner muscles clamped down around his cock, squeezing him and spasming around his length. His lips parted, jaw nearly going slack at the feel of Dean lifting up so far and then crashing back down on his dick, a choked and somewhat snarled cry tearing from his throat. His gaze lowered to his hand at Dean's cock as he felt his lover grip his own hand, speeding his movements along his mate's shaft. The wolf-like sound that escaped Dean's throat had heat bubbling through Sam's veins and pooling low in his gut causing his balls to pull up tight to his body. He grit his teeth and arched his neck and back, eyes squeezing closed as he fought to delay his release. His face flushed a soft shade of crimson and he thrust harder up into his lover, his cock pulsing needily. His eyes cracked open to mere slits at Dean's command to come and his body strained against his mate's, muscles tightened and tensed. He held his breath and waited until he felt the first splash of warmth from his lover's dick hit his hand before allowing himself the same release. 

His head lifted off the pillow as his eyes squeezed closed, lips parting on a gasp of air before he shouted, "Dean!" his mate's name tearing from deep in his throat as a snarl just before his head crashed back against the pillow and he began to come, filling his mate's ass with his spunk. 

Dean gyrated his hips in slow, lazy circles, running his hand over Sam's chest, soothing him, loving him. When all of his mate's tension finally eased, Dean lifted up off Sam's cock, then collapsed down on top of him. Running his hand up to Sam's neck, he brought his mouth over Sam's. He tasted salt and the outdoors and Sam. "Know what would make this moment even more perfect?" A smile tugged at his lip. "Pie. Did you get some pie?" He knew it drove Sam nuts that after sex, he often had a craving for food, especially sweets. 

Sam cracked his eyes open wearily and gazed into Dean's face with slight shock, "Seriously?" He inquired incredulously, his voice rising an octave. He sighed in resignation and defeat and allowed his eyes to slide closed again. "Yeah, probably," he sighed, "you'd have to look." 

"I'll bring it to bed. Don't be mad. We'll cuddle after, promise." Dropping a kiss on Sam's lips, he rolled off the bed and almost stepped on Nakita. "You weren't there the _whole_ time, were you? Never mind, I don't want to know," he added, afraid of the answer that he would now understand.


	7. Chapter 7

[A Few Days Later]

Sam had shifted and gone out for a run. Dean hadn't yet gotten the knack of shifting at will so he waited at the cabin, sitting on the porch with Nakita for company. Since he and Sam had started packing their gear, the dog appeared a little nervous. Popping open the lid of his beer can with one finger, Dean looked over at the animal. "You know we've decided to come back every month. At least until we're sure I'm okay to be around people when there's a full moon."

[ _Yeah, Sam told me. Until you know you're not gonna eat anyone. I used to help him with that ya know... could help you._ ]

"I'm not about to eat anyone," Dean groused, then he took a second look at the dog, his beer can, and then the dog. "Why do I suddenly feel drunk?"

Nakita's ice blue eyes moved from Dean to the can in his hand and back to Dean, [ _Maybe because a little over two and a half weeks ago when Sam talked to me you thought **he** was drunk?_ ] 

"Dogs aren't supposed to be funny." Glaring at said dog, Dean took a drink. "So where's your mate? Sam said something about puppies?"

Nakita eyed Dean. [ _Human's aren't supposed to go into heat either,_ ] she mused pointedly. Looking away from Dean knowing she'd made her point about the way Dean had succumbed to Sam's charms rather easily when they'd met, she gave a whining growl and laid down. [ _He's around,_ ] she replied flippantly before looking back at Dean. [ _No, Sam said **our** puppies. Didn't he tell you? Sam's a papa._] She tilted her head and watched the emotions flicker across Dean's face.

There was a silence.

[ _Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. Sam's never had it doggie style, well not like that anyway..._ ] 

Once it sank in that Nakita was joking, Dean's grip on the beer can loosened. He squeezed the other side to try to get rid of the dent he'd made. "Yeah he has," he said smugly, his gaze shifting to the dog. 

[ _Really?_ ] She inquired. [ _With who?_ ]

Dean opened his mouth, then shut it. Staring at Nakita, he took a few long pulls of his drink. "Who do you think? I mean, are there any guy wolves or girl wolves who, you know, sniff around him, or that he's ever gone after. I mean, if you had to guess." He probably shouldn't be interrogating Sam's dog over this. 

Nakita stared at Dean for a long moment before giving an allover body shake, [ _No,_ ] she answered decisively. [ _I mean, he's an alpha so of course there's the interest, but no. Like an alpha it would be up to him to choose and he has..._ ] 

"Damned straight, he has chosen." Course now Dean was wondering about all these wolves who were interested in Sam. He looked out at the forest and scowled. "Are there any... white wolves? Sam has the hots for white fur." 

Nakita turned her full attention on Dean. [ _White? No, sorry. I do know of this cute little grey wolf though..._ ]

Sam bounded around the side of the cabin and leapt half on top of Dean, his massive body landing in Dean's lap and sending his beer sailing. Before Dean could get too angry however, Sam leaned in and licked at his face while softly whining his apology. 

"Alright, alright..." Pulling slightly away, Dean looped an arm around the wolf. "Damn you're heavy. Catch any butterflies?" he asked. Yeah, he kept forgetting he was in the same boat as Sam. His wolf jokes weren't as funny anymore. 

[ _Caught you my little white butterfly,_ ] Sam replied lewdly.

[ _I would say that this whole sickening display was about to give me worms but maybe it'll keep Dean from grilling me further about the other wolves out there,_ ] Nakita grumbled. 

Sam looked from Dean to Nakita and back, [ _You were questioning her?_ ] He asked in confusion. [ _Why?_ ]

[ _Because he thought that maybe you were gonna fuck someone else... or already had,_ ] Nakita replied, cutting Dean off. 

Sam glanced at Nakita and looked back at Dean again, [ _Really, you thought that?_ ] 

Once again, Dean opened his mouth, then shut it. "I thought we were getting along better," he finally said, pointing at the dog. Course Sam was now pawing at his chest, not allowing him to forget the question. "No, I didn't think that." Now two pairs of eyes were staring him down. "I didn't! I just... I was getting the lay of the land, trying to find out who I should be worried about. What the other wolves are like." He paused. "Come on, you can't expect me to believe you went five years without it." 

[ _Yeah, checkin' the **lay** of somethin' anyway..._ ] Nakita mumbled, looking away. 

[ _Nakita,_ ] Sam warned, returning his attention immediately to his mate. He lifted a paw and huffed in exasperation. He couldn't touch his lover without clawing his fragile human skin and shifting would take too long and the moment would have passed. He scooted further up Dean's body, his claws catching on his mate's shirt as gently as possible, pulling him in closer as he whined and nudged at Dean's neck with his snout, wedging his way to tucking his head under his mate's chin in an attempt at holding him close. [ _Yeah, it's awkward, but it's the best I got right now,_ ] Sam grumbled before another long whine tore from his throat. 

"Five years though..."

Sam pulled his head back and stared into his mate's face. [ _Yeah, I told you that I went five years without it. You think that I... and some wolf..._ ] Sam stammered then stopped speaking in the canine version of clamping one's mouth shut. 

[ _Well, that's not... entirely true..._ ] Nakita muttered as she looked back at the two of them.

[ _Nakita!_ ] Sam snapped. 

Dean had been totally buying into everything Sam said, the way he was acting shy and looking at him, so much so that Dean felt guilty about giving Nakita the third degree. That is, until the dog spilled the beans. "Don't yell at her," he said, coming to Nakita's defense and trying to push Sam's heavy body away. "Besides, I want to hear this." An animalistic snarl escaped Dean, unbidden. If it wasn't a big deal, then why did Sam want to keep it a secret? 

[ _Yeah, you heard him, don't yell at me,_ ] Nakita shot back causing Sam to bare his teeth. 

[ _No,_ ] Sam snapped, [ _Whatever she says, it's a lie._ ]

[ _Oh come on, Sam, I seem to remember many nights of snarling and growling and 'Oh God yeah's',_ ] Nakita mused. [ _Sounded a lot like the other night actually..._ ]

Sam bared his teeth again and growled low and deadly as he stood to his feet and turned his attention to Nakita. 

Reaching out, Dean grabbed the scruff of Sam's neck. "How about instead of growling at her, you come clean," Dean said quietly. Logically, he knew he shouldn't care about the past. But logic seemed to have nothing to do with this.

[ _There's nothing to come clean about,_ ] Sam growled, [ _She's lying!_ ]

[ _Lying, right... there were times I thought he was gonna break the bed,_ ] Nakita confessed.

Sam growled and with a wild snarl snapped at her, only Dean's hand holding him back kept him from tearing into the dog. [ _It was my fucking hand!_ ] He shouted then jumped up onto his hind legs and wrenched himself free of Dean's grip. Turning abruptly and nearly busting his ass in his haste, Sam ran off the porch and toward the woods like a bat out of hell.

"It was _who?!_ " Dean shouted after him, his eyes widening. "Your... his... his hand? You mean he was jerking off and..." He didn't know whether to be mad at how well the dog had played him, played both of them, or to laugh cause she'd certainly gotten a reaction from them. Laughter won out, maybe because his mirth was accompanied by relief. 

Nakita yawned and pulled up onto all fours. [ _Well, that was fun,_ ] she muttered. [ _I like you, 'Butterfly', next time we can make fun of his first meal as a wolf. I got great stories about that too,_ ] she mused before hopping down off the porch and trotting off toward the woods.

"It's _Nightrider_ , not butterfly, Goddammit!" He protested, glaring at the dog's disappearing backside.

Dean got up and went down the stairs. "Sam? Sam, get back here. Sam!" One hand on the post, he laughed again. "Sam, if you don't get your ass back here, I'll be on your bed sexing it up with my hand he shouted." Ten minutes later, he made good on the promise. He just knew in his gut that Sam was still around, and moments after he gave some exaggerated moans, a very naked and ready Sam padded into the room. 

"Lemme show you just how happy I am with your choice of ex-boyfriends," Dean said, pulling Sam down on the bed with him, rolling him over and taking his mouth with a hot kiss. "Seriously, I'm fine with sharing you... with your hand." Once again, he brought his mouth down over Sam's, silencing him.

* * * 

[Five months later]

 

They'd gone back to hunting, always going back to the cabin in time for the full moon. Dean learned how to shift at will and they determined that he did have the control to keep away from humans, to fight any instinct to attack. Still, they continued to be careful because they knew he couldn't live with the knowledge he'd hurt anyone. Course he had Sam to keep him in line, if he ever did succumb to the werewolf fever.

This month, they'd decided to try something different when the full moon came. They'd take that vacation on the beach they'd talked about. It would be closer to civilization than the cabin, but they'd pick a beach that wasn't right next to any town. 

They'd driven through Cassadaga at Sam's insistence. Dean didn't really want to re-visit that place, he never wanted to see it again. There was so much pain there, for the both of them. But Sam had won the argument and now that they'd done it, Dean felt like a big weight was off his shoulders. Cassadaga was a place, that was all. 

Now they had set up camp at a nice, lonely spot at Jax Beach in Jacksonville. They had a fire going outside the tent, and were toasting marshmallows. It had all been going well but as the moon started to rise, Sam was getting a whole helluvalot pricklier. Not that Dean minded, he often added fuel to the fire, just to get the alpha in Sam going. "Hey princess, time to feed me another," he said, laying on his back on the blanket, propped up onto his elbows.

Sam turned his head and glared at Dean, "What did you call me?" He inquired in an irritated tone. "I'm not a princess, yours or otherwise, _Butterfly_ ," he sneered pointedly, a devious grin curling his lips though his eyes remained tightened with annoyance. 

"You're damned well _mine_ , now gimme a marshmallow." Dean's gaze raked down Sam's face and body.   
Sam frowned at Dean's selective hearing and plucked the marshmallow off the stick in his hand. "Here," he mumbled, shoving the entire thing into Dean's mouth at once. 

"Mmfff... ho hot, dammit!" Dean pulled the stick marshmallow out, and licked his lips. "Keep it up Sam, and I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson." He was pushing, and he knew it. Popping half the marshmallow in his mouth, he bit down and pulled the rest away. 

Sam's eyes tightened further at Dean. "You're going to teach _me_ something?" He asked incredulously with a huff. "Remember who's the beta and who's the alpha here," he muttered and turned his attention to the ocean and the moon shining its silvery light down on the waves. 

Eating the rest of the marshmallow, Dean rolled over onto his stomach and crawled closer, leaning in and whispering over Sam's ear, "Yeah, you heard me right," then slid his mouth down along Sam's neck, biting his shoulder hard and with impunity. 

A low growl of warning tore from Sam's throat as his eyes darted to the side, glaring at his mate. "Keep it up and you'll find out all about being taught a lesson," he warned. 

"Oh yeah, Sammy?" Dean kissed along his mate's jaw, a little irked that Sam was so damned serious but not getting with the program. "Whatcha gonna teach me?" Shoving Sam down onto the blanket, he bit his chin. 

Sam scowled up at Dean then reached for him, arms wrapping tightly around his mate as he turned them over with a snarl. He pinned Dean against the blanket with his body, his face in his mate's, hard and threatening. He reached for Dean's wrists, grabbing them firmly and pinning them down to the blanket as his hips rocked up against his mate's, his hazel eyes flashing yellow for a moment in low light of the moon. 

The flash of yellow had Dean sucking his breath in. Once, it would have made him tread very carefully. Now, now it sent a thrill through his system and though his instincts made him cautious, the urge to push Sam was stronger, overwhelming. "Got me a little trapped here. Or maybe I've got you," he said, raising his legs and hooking each one around Sam's, locking Sam's body to his own. He tested Sam's grip, and found that it was firm, that he couldn't pull his hands up. "Are we at an impasse?" He raised up and skimmed his mouth over Sam's, pulling back and avoiding a kiss when Sam responded. "Uh uh, I say when. Or if... " He let that hang between them, his heart pounding, his blood rushing in anticipation of Sam's response. 

Sam's eyes tightened slowly and the hazel flashed again to yellow as a snarl ripped from his throat. His grip on Dean's wrists tightened and he brought them up above his mate's head, pinning them there as he leaned down, his face in Dean's, nostrils flaring. "Maybe I'll just take what I want," he growled softly, his eyes roaming over his mate's face and he rolled his hips, thrusting down against his mate. "You're mine to take," he snarled, a low growl bubbling from deep in his throat. 

This was about the time he'd egg Sam on, tell him to do just that. Give it to him rough. But something welled up in Dean. For some reason, he suddenly decided he wasn't giving up, he wasn't letting Sam play alpha wolf. Not tonight. "I'm yours? You get to take me?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. In Sam's eyes, he saw his own reflected back, and they were a piercing blue. "I don't think so." 

All of a sudden, he pushed up, and forcefully rolled them over so he was on top. Before Sam could say a word, even before he could snarl out an order as he usually did when he was in this moon influenced mood, Dean covered Sam's mouth with his own. Shoving his tongue inside, he kissed Sam hard, taking his mouth the way he yearned to take Sam, his tongue moving in and out of Sam's mouth. His hands roved over Sam's body, pressing him down when he squirmed or tried to push up. He felt Sam buck up against him, and fought back, forcing his knee between Sam's legs. "Not tonight. Tonight, I call alpha," he growled from back of his throat, roughly grabbing Sam's wrist and slamming it down on the blanket.

Sam growled and struggled to break free, squirming and trying to wiggle out of his mate's grasp. His lips curled, baring his teeth as a snarl ripped from his throat before he attacked Dean, biting his mate's bottom lip, drawing blood.

"Sonovabitch!" Releasing Sam for a second to wipe at his lip, Dean shove Sam back down as his mate tried to rise. Straddling his hips, he grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and pulled up, raising Sam along with the shirt as he tore the material clear down to his waist. His hot gaze raked down Sam's chest gleaming under the moonlight, lingered over the button of his jeans and then moved back up to lock with Sam's. Something gripped him. A fever. It made forming words more difficult, but he warned Sam with his eyes, with the way he held him down, and with the possessive way he ran his hand down his chest to the waistband of his jeans, and pulled up, forcing him to arch off the ground as he unbuttoned the pants.

Sam's self-satisfied smirk fell away when his plan, of going through with his warning and taking Dean hard and rough, was thwarted. When his mate straddled him and pulled him up by his shirt, a warning snarl tore from Sam's throat even as his eyes raked over his mate lasciviously. He found himself pushed back down as his mate ran his hands over his body again, his hand skimming across his chest down to the waistband of his jeans. He rolled his hips wantonly, teasing Dean only to find himself pulled up from the blanket, his back arching drastically as Dean tugged his body upward. His breaths panted out through his parted lips and his neck arched back as he felt his mate's fingers brush against his groin once the fastenings of his jeans were undone. His cock twitched in response and he gave a growled groan before a snarl erupted from his curled lips. 

Moving back, Dean grabbed the bottom of Sam's jeans and with one hard tug, pulled them off. Before Sam could get up, he was straddling him again, leaning over him and kissing him hard, his hands grabbing Sam's shorts. Adrenalin pounded through his veins, giving him strength to have his way, and he would. The sound of the shorts ripping pierced the otherwise silent night. When he pulled up, he tasted blood on his lips. Only this time, it wasn't his own. "Roll over," he said, his voice low but edged in steel as he lifted up to allow Sam to do as he ordered. 

Sam started to move, his eyes intent on Dean only as he pulled up one arm and started to reach across himself and turned marginally at the waist before he abruptly stopped and charged his mate, his motions too swift to give Dean time to react until Dean's back was slamming down against the beach, sand flying up around him. A threatening snarl tore from Sam's throat, his nostrils flaring as he pounced on Dean, his hands pushing down on his mate's shoulders as he dipped his head and brutally crushed his lips against Dean's, teeth scraping and nipping hard at his lover's lips as he thrust his tongue in and out of Dean's mouth. 

Instead of fighting Sam off, Dean grabbed his hair and yanked him closer, then battled to take control of the kiss. He twisted his tongue around Sam's, probing and then sliding past Sam's tongue into his mouth. The pain from Sam's fingers biting into his flesh catapulted him into action. Giving a loud growl, he pushed up, his forward motion landing Sam on his ass. Immediately following him, Dean moved behind him and grabbing his hips, pushed him forward, snarling when Sam resisted and straddling his hips the instant Sam relented and dropped on all fours.

Using his thighs to control Sam, he started to take his own shirt off. The feel of the powerful body trapped between his legs, and the sounds Sam made drove him near wild. Tossing the shirt aside, he slid back and curled his body over Sam's. Closing one arm around his waist, he kissed his neck. "Gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck you so good Sam, you'll know you're mine for days," he swore, grinding the rough material of his jeans over Sam's bare ass. He reached for Sam's cock and squeezed, groaning loudly. "You're hard for me. You want it," he said, his entire body throbbing with need. 

Sam growled as his head turned, looking back over his shoulder at Dean, his lip curled in a dangerous snarl, eyes flashing yellow. "Wanting you has never been the issue," he grunted as he struggled under Dean, attempting to turn the tables on him. His hips bucked as he tried to throw Dean off though the motion only accomplished rubbing his bare ass against his mate's denim clad hard cock. "Dammit, Dean!" He roared when he was unsuccessful. 

Waves of primal need to dominate lanced through Dean in response. Placing his hand on the small of Sam's back, he shoved him down hard, practically to the sand. As soon as Sam started to rise again, Dean's heavy hand pushed him down again. "Don't fucking think about it. Not tonight," he snarled back, his head tipping back to look at the full moon. A howl built deep in his throat, coming out as a deep growl that was as insistent and as possessive as his hand pressing down on Sam's back, and his legs clamped around Sam's body, controlling him. "Not tonight," he repeated, quickly undoing his jeans. 

Sam gave a deadly snarl. He snapped his teeth and struggled against Dean's hold in an attempt to roll over and attack his mate, show him just who was the alpha.   
"Fuck!" He growled, another long low snarl tearing from his throat.

Adrenalin pumping through his veins, Dean shoved Sam down again and tried to get rid of his own pants. Bones shifted in his hand, sharp claws growing out of it so he easily shredded the jeans right off his body. In a split second, he was skin to skin with Sam, the fronts of his thighs pressing against the backs of Sam's legs, his body curled over Sam, trapping him. Bringing his clawed hand around, he cupped Sam's throat and slowly drew one claw along the sensitive skin. Locked in a haze of lust like he'd never known, it took everything Dean had to keep himself under control, to remain aware that he could hurt Sam, could kill him. The part of him that recognized his mate warred and tugged, trying to keep him sane while the wild animalistic side of him, influenced by the pull of the moon, screamed at him that this was how it should be. That he was alpha. "Fucking submit. Submit, Sam," he snarled, grinding his hips against Sam's ass, rubbing his thick, hard cock insistently against Sam's hole. 

Sam snarled and tilted his face upward toward the sky, his eyes on the moon. He pulled himself back and allowed the beast within full control. His breathing quickened as the change began, sides heaving with each ragged breath and a fine sheen of sweat coated his flesh. The wolf snarled menacingly as his lip curled, revealing teeth in the process of shifting and changing into those of a canine. The fingers of his hands that were curled into the sand began to crack and shift, long dangerous claws forming in place of softly calloused fingertips. Hazel eyes flashed yellow in the darkness. A low growl of warning rumbled deep in Sam's throat as his head slowly lowered from its raised position and turned, looking back over his shoulder at his mate. Yellow eyes met icy blue a millisecond before Sam turned despite the way Dean was blanketing his body, Sam's half-shifted body with the wolf in command wielding more strength than his human body alone. He attacked his mate, teeth clamping around Dean's throat with a vicious snarl. He turned his head in severe angle, one meant to subdue his mate, he then pinned his mate's body with his own against the ground.

[ _ **You** submit._ ]

Somewhere between two breaths, the world stopped. Dean found himself with his back pressed into the cold sand, immobilized by the vice-like grip Sam had on his throat. When Sam roughly shook him, the way he might play with prey, a strangled cry of pain erupted from Dean. He smelled blood. Felt it dribbling down to his shoulder. The shock from Sam having broken his skin, having drawn blood, cut through some of the haze, the wild need to be recognized as alpha that had gripped him out of nowhere. Now a heavy claw, half human, half wolf, pressed him down. Dean's chest heaved with the effort to take breaths. His body raged, his blood was still on fire. [ _Yes._ ] 

Nothing happened, and Dean saw red again. [ _I submit, goddamnit. Just... do it. Fuck me,_ ] he demanded, jerking his hips up against Sam's body and being slammed with a wave of lust. Eyes on the full moon, he started to struggled. [ _Fuck me. Show me my place. Fuck me._ ] His demands were punctuated by jerks and pushes as he tried to goad his mate into action.

Sam's lip curled as he growled in a low but threatening rumble. He warily lifted his partially clawed hand from Dean's body, keeping his attention focused on his mate watching him closely to make sure that Dean wasn't going to attempt to fight back. Once he was satisfied that his mate had submitted, he ran his clawed hand down the side of his mate's body in a lustful and loving caress while he dipped his head. He nuzzled against Dean's neck and gently licked at the blood his razor sharp canines had drawn before nudging Dean with his nose. "Roll," he mumbled through a mouth full of canine teeth. 

Dean closed his arms around Sam's waist, gripping his hips as if he was afraid Sam would pull away. "Like this," he demanded, eyes flashing blue, before he lowered his gaze and added a soft, "please. Want to see you." He knew Sam didn't go much for kissing when he was under the influence of the moon, but it was still something Dean asked for. He got his fill at all other times of the month, but something made him push... push Sam to fight his nature, for him.

Sam moved closer and pressed one palm flat against the sand near Dean's head as he lowered his hips, cantering them upward against Dean's and causing their cocks to slide together. A low groan to tumbled from his own throat as his eyes squeezed tightly closed. He continued to rock his hips teasingly, grinding, fucking up against his mate purposefully. Low moans and soft grunted growls broke from his throat as he moved. His eyes slid open to reveal passion glazed wolf eyes before he dipped his head, licking and nipping at Dean's lips hungrily.

"Sam!" Pleasure lanced through Dean at the first slide of Sam's rock hard cock against his own. "Fuck, yes," he hissed, bringing his hips up, fighting against the desire to fuck up harder against Sam, to react with as much possessiveness as Sam was displaying. He should be happy, _was_ happy, with this. That Sam was allowing him this, his choice of position. Maybe it was a nod to the alpha he'd displayed earlier, maybe it was something else. Dean didn't care one way or the other. He chased Sam's mouth, trying for a kiss, but wasn't surprised Sam wasn't having it. "Kiss me. Please baby," he asked, his voice low and husky, his body pliable, moving to Sam's rhythm, soothing the wolf. 

A whimper tore from Sam's throat as he turned his head, his mouth away from Dean's. His mate knew how hard it was for him to kiss when the wolf took over, when his mouth was filled with teeth that were not human. He'd always refrained, had always been so fearful of hurting his mate if he'd even tried. Instead he moved his arms, sliding them in between Dean and the sandy beach, pulling his lover in close as he continued to thrust against his mate and to gyrate his hips, grinding down against Dean's teasingly just to hear the gasps of pleasure that would tumble from his mate's lips. 

"Bastard." Dean was only half joking. Course it was hard to complain when he was shuddering with need and moaning out his desire each time Sam thrust against him. But he wanted more, dammit. He whispered a couple of pleas, then took matters into his own hands, gripping Sam's ass and dragging him down hard as he raised his own hips. White lights danced behind his eyes as an obscene moan left him. "Fuck me. Need it," he said, panting against Sam's shoulder, his hot breaths gusting across Sam's throat. "Want it. Want you. Come on. Show me who I belong to," he goaded. 

Sam growled and his head tilted back, a long low sound like a howl tearing from his throat before he slowly lowered his head and scurried out of his mate's embrace, tugging his arms out from around Dean in the process. Crawling backward, he reached for Dean's hips, pulling him in closer and pinned him in place against the sand then dipping his head and upper body down, his own ass high in the air as he began to lap hungrily at his mate's tightly puckered flesh. 

Dean dug his heels into the sand and lifted up, squeezing his eyes shut and not bothering to hide the lusty sounds that tore from his throat, half human, half wolf. His elbows dug into the sand as he tried to lift himself higher, watching Sam's dark head between his legs, feeling his tongue start to push inside him. He tried to squirm, but Sam's grip was unbreakable. Dean couldn't help responding to his mate's strength, his dominance. A flare of heat shot through him, had him pleading again. "More. God... just give me more." 

Sam lapped hungrily, pulling Dean closer as a low and possessive growl tore from his throat. The tip of his tongue pressed its way inside and flicked at the interior as his claw tipped fingers dug into the skin at his mate's hips. The fine sheen of sweat that coated his body caused it to shine in the low moon light, giving Sam's chiseled body an ethereal look like some god of nature who had been carved in marble. His nostrils flared and a low guttural groan tore from his throat as he drew in the scent of his mate's musky arousal and continued to lap at Dean's hole, opening him up with his tongue and slicking him with his saliva. 

Each tightening of Sam's grip, each guttural warning, each breach by his tongue heightened Dean's need, sharpening his craving to be fucked senseless by his mate. His demands, his pleas, they fell on deaf ears. In this state, Sam moved at his own pace. He decided when and what, and the only way to get through him was to appeal to his animal instincts - often a dangerous proposition. "Come on... please Sam," Dean writhed and jerked, bucked as far as he could. He pressed his hands into the soft sand, pushing himself closer, fucking himself against Sam's tongue, but it wasn't enough. He needed Sam's thick hard cock inside him, needed to hear skin slapping against skin. "Fuck me... or are you waiting for some other wolf to do it," he eventually snarled. 

Sam tore his mouth away and lifted his head, his yellow eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he growled ferocious, his upper lip curling into a sneer. A loud snapping half bark-half growl tore from Sam's throat before he swiftly shifted, jerking Dean bodily down further. He spread his mate's legs wide as he wrapped an arm around Dean's lower back, lifting his hips up off the sand. He snarled in warning, lip curling to show sharp canine teeth while he knelt there between his lover's legs and reached up with his free hand, wrapping that hand around the underside of Dean's shoulder and lifting him up. With one brutal thrust of his hips, Sam slammed his cock balls deep inside his mate with a deep groan.

The brutal invasion sent shudders of pain through Dean and had him shouting profanities at his mate. He was immobilized, his body wracked with spasms as it tried to adjust. "God damn..." Dean's gaze met Sam's, saw the absolute heat and a hint of danger in his yellow eyes. Biting his lip, he took a couple of breaths, making only a small sound of protest when Sam ground his hips roughly against Dean's. It was what he'd asked for, now he'd take it. 

Blinking away the sting of tears, Dean put one arm around Sam's shoulder, and lifted his other hand to his mate's powerful arm, gripping it. He felt Sam's muscles bunch under his palm, felt him start to pull out. Bracing, he was ready when Sam slammed into him as hard as he had before, his cock pulsing inside Dean, branding him in no uncertain terms. This time, Dean wanted more. "Yes, fuck me. Show me, show me who I belong to," he whispered, rocking up against Sam, a strangled cry tearing from his throat when his own aching cock pressed against Sam's rock hard abs.

Sam groaned and pulled back again, ramming his cock deep inside his mate with a low grunt. He squeezed his eyes closed, nostrils flaring with his heaving breaths. He grit his teeth as his head tilted back and he struggled to control the wolf, to get the beast within to pull back at least slightly. His muscles quivered, body trembling as he fought against the wolf's nature, its wants and desires. Slowly, very slowly his eyes slipped open to reveal yellow tinted hazel eyes and human teeth between his softly parted lips. 

Dipping his head he crushed his lips to Dean's, tongue pushing in past his mate's lips to tangle with Dean's tongue, a low moan tumbling from his throat, the sound muffled and eaten up in the kiss. Tilting his head down marginally he captured Dean's lip, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh as he his hips continued to move, thrusting more easily now, his dick gliding in and out of his lover fluidly. Releasing the Dean's plump bottom lip with a soft pop he lifted his head slightly, gazing with desire filled eyes down at his mate. "Mine," he breathed decisively. "You're mine," he declared as he pulled his hips back and slammed into Dean as if to emphasize his point. "My friend, my lover, my _mate_ , forever," he murmured huskily. Sam didn't finish the thought, didn't tell Dean that if someone were to take Dean from him, that would be the one time he didn't think that he would be able to control the wolf within. He knew what the wolf would do, he would kill whoever touched what was his and he wasn't certain he would have the strength nor the will to stop the wolf within him. 

"Yes... oh hell yes!" Dean shouted. Sam was fucking him just right, driving him crazy, driving him wild. Although he didn't have much leverage, he met Sam, thrust for thrust, squeezing around Sam's cock, urging him on. They fucked for what seemed like hours, a coat of sweat blanketing their bodies so their bodies gleamed under the moonlight. The sound of water lapping against sand was punctuated by their grunts and groans and the occasional oaths that fell from Dean's lips. He was straining so hard, taking so much punishment, he knew this would have been impossible a few months ago. "Sam... Sammy... need to come," he finally admitted, groaning and reaching for his cock, squeezing it and biting his lip when Sam's stomach rubbed over his hand. "Sam!" he shouted, eyes squeezed shut, body tensing, his balls pulling tight against his body. 

Pulling his hand from Dean's shoulder Sam lowered it to his mate's groin, pushing Dean's hand out of the way and wrapping his hand around his lover's cock, engulfing it within his large hand. He began stroking Dean purposefully, his hand nearly stripping his mate's dick as his hips snapped forward and pulled back, the two movements matching in rhythm and intensity. Low groans tumbled from Sam's lips as he rocked his hips, thrusting hard and sliding his hand in fast hard pulls along Dean's cock. He dipped his head, nipping hard at his lover's throat with his front teeth, pinching the tender flesh between them and before sucking the flesh into his mouth hard enough to bruise. His own balls pulled up tight to his body at the wanton sounds that tumbled from Dean's lips, the way his body strained and tensed, writhing beneath him. His thumb brushed across the top of his mate's cock, smearing precome and teasing the sensitive flesh between each stroke and tug along his lover's length. "Come," he growled, "come for me." 

The bite had almost been Dean's undoing, but instinctively he'd somehow waited, waited for Sam's order. Hips lifting up as high as he could get them and squeezing his inner muscles around his mates cock, Dean threw back his head and gave a deep, guttural cry as he came so hard, his hot cum shot up and splattered over Sam's hand and his own stomach. He felt Sam's hand close around him harder and start to stroke again. His cock was so sensitive now, he gave a cry of pain before another orgasm ripped through him and he was already shouting Sam's name again, his fingers digging into his mate's shoulders as he felt Sam's own release filling him.

Sam's teeth clenched as Dean's inner muscles clamped around his cock and he forced himself to remain calm to keep from coming even as his mate's reactions and the sounds that he made had his heated blood shooting through his veins and pooling low in his belly and his dick inside his lover's tight heat pulsing and throbbing with the need to come, to tumble over that edge with his mate. Once his lover's first orgasm had ripped through him, Sam doubled his efforts to wring yet another from his mate, reveling in the sounds and the cry of pained pleasure tore from Dean's throat. His muscles tensed and his back arched, a growled snarl tore from his lips as his body strained against his mate's just before the first ribbon of spunk shot from his cock as he began filling his lover's ass to over flowing.

As his orgasm wound down, Sam slowly collapsed down onto his mate, head turned, face buried against the side of Dean's neck. "So good," he panted, "so hot..."

"Mmhmm," Dean agreed, sliding his hands down to Sam's lower back as he dropped his legs back down onto the sand. He tested Sam's patience by rolling them over so he was on top. Looking down into his eyes, he searched for hints of danger, then gave him a smug smile. "You know I got what I wanted, don't you?" 

Sam's arms slid around Dean, his hands sliding down his lover's body, hands grasping his mate's firm ass cheeks, leisurely kneading them as he gazed up into Dean's eyes. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at his mate, "What, to get to be my bitch?" 

"You make it sound like a bad thing." Dipping his head down, he kissed Sam until they were both out of breath. "I get to be what turns you on, and what makes you go out of control. That's what." 

Sam's lips curved into a soft smile as he gazed up at his mate, "I love you," he murmured softly.

"Course you do," Dean grinned, then kissed Sam again. "You were different, this time. Talked a little, and kissed," he noted. "Usually, you don't answer me at all." When the moon wasn't affecting them, Sam was the talkative one during sex. But under the pull of the full moon, he changed a lot, and it was Dean who talked or wanted to be kissed. Maybe he needed reassurance, or something.

"It was hard," Sam sighed wearily, "took a lot outta me," he answered as his eyes searched Dean's face lovingly. "Did I hurt you?" He murmured, lifting one hand, fingertips brushing against the bite marks on Dean's, though they were already fading.

"Only in a good way." Dean closed his eyes as Sam caressed him, then turned his head and brushed his mouth against Sam's palm. "It was intense. I have no idea how long we went at it. I'm thinking round two, _if_ you can catch me," he said, stretching slightly as the urge to shift started to sweep over him. "Oh, and if I can't walk tomorrow... I'm totally giving you shit over it."

Sam laughed outright, a rich belly laugh that had his cheeks dimpling and his head tilting back against the sandy beach as he clung to his mate, arms wrapped tightly around him. 

"You're playing with fire... bout to change," Dean warned, half laughing, half whining as the pain started. Then they were rolling, wrestling as they changed. Their bones shifting and popping, and yelps leaving them, human sounds disappearing and being replaced by wolf sounds. 

Fully shifted and on all fours, Dean crouched low and taunted Sam with growls and playful barks, jumping slightly to the left and right. [ _C'mon slow poke. You're gonna have to move a lot faster than that if you want a piece ... another piece of my ass._ ]

Sam pulled up into his hands and knees and allowed the shift to begin, his eyes squeezing closed as he waited for bones and tendons to break and shift. Once the shifting was complete, Sam shook, his dark coat moving against the rippling muscles of his massive body. [ _Watch it, Butterfly, I'll **pluck** your wings_ ] he teased with a playful yelp as he darted after Dean with a snip and a growl. 

Dean didn't waste time talking, but took off, running down the long strip of beach, sometimes zig zagging into the water a little. The wind rushed past his face, and Sam was at his heels, making him go faster, until he caught up and they matched paces. He thought he could keep running into forever, at least with Sam at his side. The darkest day of his life had turned out to be the best thing, make that the second best thing that had ever happened to him. Now he had Sam, in human form, and in wolf. There wasn't a damned thing more he could ask for. Except maybe a trip to Vegas...

THE END


End file.
